For seven days I wore sandals, if I wore any shoes at all. Now it's back to big bulky boots so my toes don't freeze.
For seven days I smelled like sunscreen, salt, and ocean. Now I keep getting whiffs of mildew, and I think it might be me.
For seven days I watched whales and dolphins. I saw every sunrise and sunset. I chased little lizards and crabs while Meg squealed in delight. Now I will go back to watching the clock, and NBC "comedies."
For seven days I ate whatever I wanted, and drank beer no matter what time of day it was. Now I am back on my diet, and I doubt they will let me sip on Corona at my desk. It wouldn't taste as good anyway...
For seven days Meg and Ryan never left my sight. We giggled, and swam, and sang, and cuddled. Tomorrow Ryan and I go back to work, and Meg goes back to day care.
Oh, how I loved those seven days. Oh, how lucky I was to have them. Now I will let the memories sustain me until the next seven, next year.