Day One of vacation.  We have been gathering in the same vacation spot, around the same time with members of Kyle’s family for years. When we arrive here we are greeted with “welcome home.” Its always a bit odd to hear “welcome home” somewhere that is not either my actual home (or when in Israel), but where we are now does in an odd way, feel like home and today, within hours of landing, I knew why.

It feels like home because home should be a place of comfort and love and here, my children do not struggle. The pressures of school, routine, and so many challenges, are absent here. We stay steps from the ocean and swimming pools, near a fun downtown, and by great places to explore and discover. The sun shines here and it is warm, sunny and bright.  It is as if the soothing,  comforting warmth of the sun on their skin is internalized. Some how, a different rhythm of breath, speech, gait of life takes over. I notice from the time it takes to get from the airport to our destination, a metamorphosis begins to happen, the shedding of the winter-coat-layers of the harsh Chicago weather and lifestyle which is analogous to the pressure, anxiety, dis-ease and challenges, is exchanged for the happier sounds and sights of nature and friends who offer Hola Amigas! Hola Amigos! And smiles so bright when we approach.

As we settled in this afternoon, each kid went to do their own thing-the beach, a book, a snack etc., each of the girls made their way to be with me at a table by the pool. Such a gift. Really.

Nathan wanted to go to watch the ocean and since he rarely tells you what he wants and mostly just takes-off to do,  so I quickly followed him. He finally got to steps leading down to the sand and stopped. 

I caught up to him and he asked, “Mom, do you think it is high tide? The beach looks different than last year.” We talked and talked – then we were silent. My son doesn’t always engage in conversation, and when he does, so much of the time his mind is thinking thoughts so far beyond what I can comprehend, it is hard to have a sustained dialogue. However today, with the ocean waves crashing on the shore in front of us, it was different. We talked for a long time. Then we were silent.  Standing in silence together in connectedness with a sense of wonderment at the magnificence of God’s creation was a most glorious moment. Nathan’s way of articulating awe was to speak in scientific terms and metaphysics and I knew we were sharing something special together. When the speaking stopped and shared silence took over,  the  tears I had been holding back for so very long, were at last released.

I knew this moment shared with son would  forever be in my memory. It was stored in every cell. I knew this experience  was not to be taken for granted.  How many times I honestly did not think there would be one like it!  Tears because it could be Otherwise.

I know we know that each moment we have with those we love, actually, could be otherwise. But knowing it and feeling it are very different. Looking out into the setting sun with my son, I felt him being held by a Gentleness of Spirit and Love I only glimpse from time to time and I was filled with an overwhelming sense of powerlessness and appreciation, humility and love and thanksgiving for this person who I am blessed to have as a child one day at a time. 

And… of course, as quickly as we entered this holy tent underneath the painted sky, the moment passed. A request from our fabulous eight year old cousin to play Uno took precedence and off Nathan went running with his cousin who he sees mostly only on this vacation.   And to see my son with a playmate, running and talking… ah, that is another story filled with more tears of joy.

Thousands of miles from home, and yet never closer to it. Vacation. Welcome home: A heart opening practice for sure.