I am vacationed out.
It is nice to be back.
The vacation itself .... "The best of times, the worst of times."
I still can think back fondly on so much and laugh, the moments of pleasure, the joy and happiness, the stories that will become family lore, and relish in the sheer wonderfullness of it all.
Then there is the other part of the vacation, the part where, when I think back on it, the possibilities that could have been and what was, the ongoing life that it has developed itself. I get sick to my stomach. Sickness born of terror and pain and sadness ... And I was a wreck. I do have great friends and family that will listen and help me laugh.
So when I came back to work, people would say, "So how was your Vacation?"
I would smile and shrug, then smile a little wider and say great. For it was, and that is not a lie. But then the sickness wells in the gut, because they will never know the rest of the story.
I am sure I will tell it. I will tell it in full detail and put it down at some point. But it is still to fresh, still too cloudy and still undecided in its ultimate fate.
Heck I even have some pictures ... at some point.