I’ve been feeling a bit like that. Like a papier mache heart. The worst kind of heart to have in the monsoon. Because when all you want is some resolve to make things happen, you have indecision. You want the comfort of routine, but all you get is shape-shifting days. You want peace and all you get is a cacophony of possibilities. And in the midst of it, your papier mache heart is getting shredded to smithereens. Like right now. I feel likea scattered collection of little gluey blobs that I must gather, and the more I try, the more things seem to disintegrate. Into one big mushy, pulpy, shapeless form.
I need a break. I need a holiday. It’s been almost eight months since our last vacation. When we drove out to what felt like the edge of the earth, where cell phone networks went bust, time stood still and all we did was ride around, observe, read, lounge, be together, silently soaking it all in. That’s the kind of holiday I want again.
So in a little over two weeks, we’re off to Thailand. As the husband put it, “to sit on a beach and do nothing”. Yes, you’re not the only one to notice the tremendous irony in that sentence. To go from the land of beaches, all the way overseas, to go sit on a beach and do nothing. But such is life. And I want out of life for a bit.
I want colourful cocktails laced with chunks of pineapple. I want a big beach umbrella, a towel, a fat book, and no curfew. I want pad thai noodles and seafood. I want tropical rain and postcard skies. I want that massage at the spa. I want to slow things down. To breathe in and just be. Just whatever it takes to get my papier mache heart back in shape.