We are here and it is gorgeous. High today was 80, not a cloud in the sky. Slept in, ate a delicious breakfast overlooking the pool and spent the day lounging. I finished the book I stated on the plane. The Marriage Plot by Jeffrey Eugenides. I could see how it's an acquired taste, but I loved it. We even ordered lunch and ate it while reclining in our cabana by the pool. It felt very decadent. Considering we spend most vacations following a strict, self-imposed itinerary, so as not to miss anything, this feels positively luxurious. And Totally out of character. Don't worry--I'm sure I'll learn to adjust.
Tomorrow we are heading to the beach club. I am reserving a spot in the yoga class for Tuesday morning. We may golf one day, if David can get over his reluctance to golf with rented clubs. It's nice here. Really nice. I'm a little homesick.
It's not that I don't want to be here. It's just that I miss everything that should have been this Christmas. I miss it so intensely, and still with such shock. It's as though I was holding it tightly when someone ripped it away fom me, and now I just have fiercely clenched fists and the inability to fully understand how it could have possibly slipped from my grasp. How has it been a year without her? How is it possible that I'll never get her back? How can these things be true and sunshine and warm breezes can still feel so incredibly good? It's complicated, and sometimes I am so freaking sick of my every emotion being complicated.
Our adults only resort is so peacefully quiet. It is almost strange, in its quiet hush, but lovely. I told David that I imagine this is what very expensive rehab centers are like. Only with less alcohol on the menu, I suppose. Most couples here are at least in their 50's. The music is soft and Spanish, not Christmas tunes. I had to laugh today, though, when an older European woman stood up from her lounge chair and nonchalantly tied her sarong under her arms, unconcerned about the fact she'd tossed her bikini top to the side while lying on her stomach. So my brother was right, we have seen a bit of poolside nudity. At this point I'd rather hang out with semi-nude middle-aged women rather than adorable, shrieking toddlers, so I am not sure what that says about me, except that we are glad we did the adults only resort.
We don't have cell phone service, and I am trying to the advantage of the opportunity to disconnect (you know, by blogging poolside on David's iPad). Who knows, I might actually feel somewhat rested and rejuvenated by the time the trip is over. I know that was sort of the idea all along, but December was so freaking hard, with the last couple of weeks being far more tear-sodden and grief-stricken than I had anticipated. So feeling like I can take a deep breath without my chest feeling tight? It's weird. And nice.
Also: Don't worry, Mom. We are reapplying sunscreen.