It’s almost to the point where I feel guilty.
“Have a great time in Italy!” they squeal at me. As if I’m going on a cruise ship where confetti is tossed from the balconies upon boarding. “I’m so excited for you!!!”
I repeat unaffected, “It’s not a vacation.”
They look at me, confused. I let the silence extend itself to underscore my reply.
I put some thought to this. Why it bugs me to be misunderstood.
It’s a sore spot because I don’t intend my travels to be anything special. It is my regular, not my someday come true. Is it my lifestyle not my annual vacation. It is what I wish were more often the norm–for many others who say, “I’m so jealous.” It is possibility made possible. And this shouldn’t be so rare.
Wish me a good trip like you wish me a good day at work. Like you wish me a good run. Off the cuff, cavalier…as if just another day of countless many.
Because that’s the way it should be. Nothing special. Just another day in the life I choose to make mine.