back home

Our European holiday is over.

I can't believe we went to London, Paris, Venice and Barcelona.

I can't believe I have to go back to work tomorrow.

London already seems so far away.

Four cities in two weeks is a lot to take in and I wouldn't recommend such a grueling pace to anyone.

But it feels like a secret journey only my husband and I shared and that makes it feel even more special.

Without missing a beat we both turned to each other and chirped "holAH" after that adorable two-year old on the plane starting chanting "hola" just the way the shopkeepers and waiters do when they greet you in Barcelona.

We both speak Spanish but have never heard it said quite like this before. It's like they sing it and their voice goes up an octave at the end.

Did this cute kid pick it up on her vacation they way we did?

I hope I'll never forget how adorable my husband looked jumping out of the cab and trying in vain to chase after the bus after it took a really loong second for it to register when I said, "where's the red bag."

..or how we celebrated actually finding the red bag by drinking to the kindness of all Spaniards by getting properly and gloriously tipsy.

And I will always treasure how giddy we both got when we saw the Eiffel Tower sparkle for the first time on our two-year anniversary.  

I'll close this up with a verse from the children's book, "From the Mixed-up Files of Mrs. Basil E. Frankweiler."

"The adventure is over. Everything gets over, and nothing is ever enough. 

Except the part you carry with you. 

It's the same as going on a vacation. Some people spend all their time on a vacation taking pictures so that when they get home they can show their friends evidence that they had a good time. 

They don't pause to let the vacation enter inside them and take that home."