See this hotel?  This is The Reefs and it’s one of my favorite places in the world.  It’s the place where I discovered that Bermuda really does have pink sand, right there on that pristine, private beach.  It’s where I learned to take tea at 4pm every afternoon on that veranda overlooking the Atlantic Ocean.  It’s where I learned that fish make a lot of noise underwater.  When we snorkeled around those rocks, right beside the parrot fish and the yellow tangs, I heard a sound like Rice Krispies just after the milk is poured on–the sound of fish nibbling on the coral reef.  It’s where I learned that you NEVER tell other travelers what you paid for your vacation because it turns out that we paid about 20% of what other people had paid to be there!

It’s also where Richard gave me a piece of advice that I remember to this day, especially on Sunday evenings when my brain is turning towards Monday.

“Mope on the plane, Ashley.  Mope on the plane.”

We were sitting in two of those cushylounge chairs on the pink crescent of beach.  It was our last day of vacation in Bermuda.  Seven days of pink sand, conch fritters, evening dances, afternoon tea, scooters, Dark and Stormy drinks in the hot tub, kayaking, snorkeling, and wishes made under the moon gate.  Our flight wasn’t until later that afternoon, so we had stowed our bags with the concierge in order to spend every possible minute on that beach.  He was enjoying himself.  I was pouting because we had to leave.  It wasn’t fair–other people were just arriving.  Other people had another week to go.  Other people came to The Reefs EVERY YEAR.  Some people even got to live on Bermuda.  But not us.  We had to go home.  

I wasn’t talking much.  I was nursing my hurt.  The only conversation I seemed capable of making was, “I can’t believe we have to leave.”  Finally, the man who could shrug off most anything pulled his head off of the rolled up towel he had made into a pillow and said, “Ashley!  Mope on the plane!  You are wasting precious moments of THIS on THAT.  I’ll talk about leaving when we’re in the shuttle or at the airport, but right now….NO.”  

I think that’s pretty smart stuff for a Sunday night.  How much of life do we spend moping while we’re still on vacation…metaphorically?  How much Sunday gets eaten up with dragging our feet towards Monday?  How many days do we grind through in anticipation of vacation?  (I know I am right now…the count is 26) 

So now when I want to stay present in the good times, I remind myself to “mope on the plane!”  Even these days, when my passport has expired and I plan vacations around things that can entertain a toddler.   We spent two beautiful vacations at The Reefs–once for spring break and once for New Year’s.  I was lucky to have pink sand between my toes, even if I had to come home eventually.