First, the anxious tedium only an airport can supply, followed by passage on the sleek silver bird. And then, in what seems the blink of an eye, a return to normal life. Leaving behind the deep relaxation of beach time, of staring up at palm trees, impossibly slim, impossibly tall, a profusion of growth and greenery.

Then, there is finding the place I live to be new again. Even the old familiar walk, the up-and-back of the neighborhood thoroughfare, seems shiny and bright.

It is full-bore summer here. The night is rich with insect sounds, the mornings full of crows cawing and blue jays calling. Another trip is coming in a few days, a family vacation full of little people. There is plenty to do. But now, for these last morning hours, I want to pause and let it all sink in.