I've heard tell that vacations provide a reset, a way to start over, brand new. Though enjoyable, the week itself could not be described as restful despite the hours I spent on the screen porch alternately reading and dozing while my fellow travelers caught fish and raced around the island shopping for souvenirs. Don't get me wrong. I went to the beach every day and did plenty, morning, noon and night. But in my heart I felt like a shell of a person, like a trauma survivor wandering around the world, not quite seeing what is there. I went through the motions, tragging along with no volition of my own. Now that I am relaxed back in my own home, though, I am thinking that a period of languishing might have been just what the doctor ordered. (And if renewal can happen to me, maybe my beloved hardwood trees can come back from their malaise as well? )
