Le sigh. I'm back from my two week getaway and already that all too familiar melancholy is setting in. It was a lovely escape from the hustle and bustle that was the past few months...but alas, all good things must come to an end. C'est la vie, n'est pas?
And though we often express disdain for this rather well known fact, isn't that what makes those times so special? The allure of the temporary, the fleeting, and the momentary...the knowing that it will end, when it will end, and setting your expectations accordingly. There is no dancing on the roofs of hope or thinking about the long term...just enjoying the ride for what it is and relishing in the series of extraordinary (and not so extraordinary) moments we encounter along the way.
We say we wish we could be on vacation everyday...that it could all last "forever" but isn't that the very thing that makes life so mundane? If every getaway, every stolen moment lasted forever (the way we often say we wish they would), wouldn't it lose its very appeal? Isn't that exactly when it becomes the permanent, the expected, the routine...and the everyday? Doesn't it then become the very thing that we so desperately and so often want to escape from?
So though I'm sad to have left Europe, I happily return to my home here in Toronto, not with despair that I won't get those moments back (as I felt last year), but with appreciation and gratitude that I was lucky enough to have experienced it all in the first place...