Tuesday, February 8, 2011

Resting my eyes

This morning as I drove to work I couldn't help but be struck by the gorgeous sight of our snow-kissed mountains against the ice-blue winter sky. I pulled out my sunglasses to stave off the brilliance of the sun, and as they settled into their comfortable perch on my squinting face, I wanted to be putting those sunglasses on somewhere else.

Preferably poolside.

Oceanside would be even better.

With hot, shirtless cocktail waiters and complicated drinks with umbrellas.

I could just keep driving and end up in Vegas--or LA. I could drive toward the airport instead of downtown and end up...anywhere.

"I feel like Ashley Judd's character in The Divine Secrets of the Ya Ya Sisterhood," my darling girlfriend shared the other day, "Like running away to a hotel and just disappearing for a while."

I've felt like that many times. I felt like that today.

Driving away from everyone I answer to. Everything I'm responsible for. Everything I see every day.

Smelling the salt in the air--seeing that first glimmer of sunlight dance on the water as the ocean comes into view on the horizon--is like a shot of adrenaline to my faltering heart. I want to be on a beach or in a room or on a road where no one knows me and I can pretend to be whomever I feel like for a little while.

I just want to rest my eyes for a little bit. Just a minute.

To order room service and take too many baths and prance about in my fluffy, complimentary robe before I jump on the bed. To make a mess that someone else will clean up.

I've often fantasized about going 'round the bend and winning a stay at a sanatorium. To be clear, my fantasy doesn't take place in a psych ward--it's more like Canyon Ranch for tired moms who want to do simple things, like pee in private. (To be fair, in the past couple years I have enjoyed more bathroom privacy than I've had in almost two decades, but the sentiment still rings true.)And the people in white coats pour wine and offer massages instead of serving jello and offering shock therapy. Although it's hard to know off-hand which course of treatment would best serve the likes of me.

3 comments:

LaRiesse said...

I love your writing. It is luscious, engaging and beautiful. This piece spoke to my soul. Maybe one day we hop in a car with a couple other dear and lovely women and keep driving...we will return of course but what an adventure! Much love!

LaRiesse

Lee said...

I'm with ya, babe!

Kellie said...

You've been reading my mind. I could have written this, verbatim. And I do drive towards the airport every morning on my way to work, just need to take an earlier exit and I could be flying away to anywhere, like in the movies when they go up to the counter and say "I'll take the next flight, wherever it's going."