We sit on the deck overlooking the mountains, my girls blowing bubbles around me in a swirl of iridescent colors. The air is damp, a breeze shifts the bubbles this direction, then that way. The evening is as close to perfect as I could have imagined, watching the sun slip behind a veil of thick clouds, then beneath the horizon, Still, the knot wedged between my shoulder blades refuses to budge. We hop locations, making time for long-overdue visits that should have happened years ago. This deck in the clouds, is one of several destinations.
I haven’t opened my laptop since I put it in the car, not out of desire to bring it, but purely out of necessity, because even when you’re vacationing, work still calls. The world spins on even as you decide to sit still. So often rest comes with a tension line attached. It’s not so easy to unplug. It’s not so simple.
I half listen to the chatter of my girls, while I’m trying to hush the noise in my own head. I’ve turned my phone to “silent” mode, but my internal noise has no such switch. I’m frustrated by my own resistance to rest.