Once upon a time there was a man named George whose vacation was coming up. He planned to take his wife Marion and two small children to the Poconos for a week. His own parents had never gone on trips, and he had resentments about that.
The day before they were scheduled to leave George came home, holding some stress about the drive and whether the car would have problems. His girls were on the floor surrounded by toy ponies, having made elaborate fences and roads for them out of paper and blankets. They looked up when he came in.
"Hey Dad! See our cool farm?"
"Put those down, and start packing for the trip," George barked. "You need sweatshirts in case it gets cold, and bathing suits for swimming."
They seemed disappointed but stood up and ran to their rooms to stuff shorts and toothbrushes into a unicorn back pack. Marion was surprised by how quickly they had responded, but George was lost in his thoughts and did not notice.
When they were on the road he listened intently to every clink and clank of the engine, while his girls had their noses pressed against the windows.
"Look at the eagles! They fly so fast!"
George glanced in that direction. "Not eagles. Hawks," he corrected.
When they arrived at the cabin the kids ran in to explore the beds. Each claimed one and tried it out for jumpability. George spread out brochures to plot their schedule, cramming every opportunity into the five days they would be there. He wanted to get his money's worth, and if it rained later in the week he needed to allow for that.
The girls got up early the first day, which annoyed George, eager to explore the piece of forest behind their back door. They made a fort of sticks, while their mother cooked breakfast. George studied the maps, plotting a hike.
"Hey, Dad, come see!"
"After I finish this," he said without looking up.
Marion seemed calm watching her family enjoy the waffles, allowing seconds on syrup and fresh berries. She liked knowing that they did not have to be anywhere on time, or dress a certain way. There was relief in just lingering over a meal.
"Ok, let's get started," George announced. "There is a tour at eleven I want to catch."
The kids piled into the car, and poked each other with straws in the back seat. George told them to stop. Their mother just smiled and shook her head.
The next day the girls slept late, which annoyed George because he had things planned. By Thursday the skies opened up with enough rain to create a small lake by the back door, and the kids got so muddy their mother had to run two baths, rather than washing them together. They were astonished, having never before had their very own tub time. Marion wrapped them in big towels and plopped them in front of a movie with popcorn. George felt defeated in his careful planning.
When it was time to pack the car to go home, George again fell into worry about the motor. The girls begged to be allowed to bring home a collection of moss covered rocks, mushrooms, and branches. Marion compromised, saying they could take everything that would fit in a grocery bag. They spent half an hour carefully fitting their treasures in to best advantage.
George could not articulate it, but he did not feel especially rested when he went to work the next Monday. As it turned out the car had performed well, but his thoughts were already lost in the process of catching up at work, and he didn't remember to be grateful.
He filed the brochures in a folder with other glossy pamphlets, but somehow felt as if he had not really been there at all.
