I used to go on really long vacations. Except none of them were really vacations. They were more like adventures(!) and they were grand and full of trains and museums and sightseeing and exhaustion. I never understood the point of taking a trip to a pool or somewhere resorty. What is the point of life if not to LIVE IT! DIVE IN! RUN AROUND LIKE A CRAZY PERSON! SLEEP? NEVER! RELAX, WHAT?
Ah, young Bec, you wonderful thing! You had no idea, did you? You had no idea.
Fast forward to now. Eight years into my relationship with Hal, seven of those years spent with children, all I want to do is fall asleep in a chair next to a body of water. Surrounded by beverages, and scantily clad people. And drinks. And Hal, who was snoring when I took this picture.
I might have been snoring when I took this picture too. Because I was in a cabana and nobody could hear me so why not? And therein lies my new mantra a la vacaciones. If you snore in a cabana and nobody is there to hear you, YOU ARE ON VACATION!
Which brings me to the highlight of our entire trip: the cabana. It was my first time inside of one and I never wanted to leave. Honestly, we almost missed dinner because we were passed out with sandy hair in our little private heaven, drink glasses empty save for a few melted ice cubes and a garnish. AKA we did absolutely nothing for HOURS .
And it felt like everything.
It only took us two days to let go, unwind and recharge. Two days. A weekend. Hal and I spent our entire trip shaking each other by the shoulders asking, “WHY DO WE NOT EVER DO THIS MORE OFTEN OR AT LEAST ONCE A YEAR, WHY?”
And then we decided that a weekend getaway, just the two of us, once a year, would be our new thing. Because being together ALONE is pretty much the most important thing a couple can do. For each other. For the family. Hell, for the kids. Because, as we explained to Archer and Fable when they asked why we were going on an airplane without them, “Mommies and Daddies need playdates, too.” Faraway playdates. With cabanas. And lobster bisque. And heavenly beds. And views of oceans. And enlightened golf experiences. And champagne. To do and sit and eat and sleep and gaze and play and drink. Together.
Thank you, Westin Diplomat, for 48 hours of bliss.