Work has eluded me today.

Or rather, my motivation to work has.

Coming off a high of four days with Daddy – three spent by the ocean – I cannot help but not be ready to be integrated back into the usual life routines. We had spent a solid amount of time, wrapped in our own little bubble where none of the other things mattered. Just having solid, quality time with each other – creating memories, enjoying each other, laughing, and loving.

No rushing home for me.

No worrying about if we had enough time.

No wondering if we should be more social or just sink into each other.


Just us.



Daddy and baby.



So rolling through my head today has been my brain processing the events – processing our time.  And my heart beating faster at some memories – and a huge smile creeping across my face as a memory warranted it – or maybe a blush on my cheeks thinking about other things.

Sitting at the bar tasting the beers served at this brewery, watching the staff prepare for the epic storm, getting texts from those worried we may not have made it, and just kissing and giggling and enjoying the full boy exhale that seemed to happen for us both as we drove from home to our home-away-from-home.  Then stumbling back to our room, falling into each others arms, and sleeping for the first time in what felt like weeks.

Or another time, wandering around the little beach community – looking at houses for sale, talking about what it would be like to live there.  Teasing (but not really) about having the fast internet connection so I could telecommute to work. How excellent it could be – to be there – away from life – basking in the view and the atmosphere and life.

Or waking up at 2am to find we are both wide awake – and find that bottle of wine already opened almost like we had planned to sit on the balcony, watching shooting stars and boats on the ocean horizon passing by us – as we sit in the dark watching the night and the ocean.

Or the romps that left us laughing and exhausted and high on each other as we hoped the phone wouldn’t ring with the front desk telling us to be quiet.

Is it any wonder that I cannot work – with such great things to process in my head?

And when I think about these things, all I can do is bask in the warm glow of how it makes me buzz and smile and all.

Fuck work.

What do you think?

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