I’ve recently returned from a family vacation to Mexico. I’d been planning it for nine months. A luxury resort on the sea in Cabo, with a fabulous spa, multiple pools, and world-class dining. My two adult children were joining us, along with my cousin and her family. We’d pre-booked multiple excursions, including a day on a boat and some surfing.
Now, as you read on, keep in mind the lyrics of Mr. Taylor’s song, Mexico, which reads in part:
Oh, Mexico
It sounds so sweet with the sun sinking low
Moon’s so bright like to light up the night
Make everything all right
Make everything all right? Sign me up for that promise.
Suffice to say, I had been looking forward to this very much because, as my prior essays discuss, this year has been particularly difficult. Those of you who follow along know I don’t do shiny here. My books and this Substack are both rooted in real life, with all its inconvenient complications. So when I tell you about this trip, you’re not getting a prettied-up “TikTok” version. You’re getting the truth.
First, to recap why I felt such urgency about getting away, my mother was diagnosed with Alzheimer’s last year. It’s been a battle to get her to move from Pennsylvania to Connecticut, but we finally made that move in early May. That same month, we attended my son’s college graduation and welcomed him home. He’s now navigating a difficult job market and needs emotional support from his parents. On top of that, I have been editing my second book while traveling for work and putting together a proposal to pitch to my publisher for a third book.
As I said, I really needed this vacation to catch my breath.
The day finally comes. We arrive at the resort and find cocktails, homemade chips, and guacamole waiting for us in our unit. Our balcony boasts a fantastic view of the entire resort property and the ocean, with waves crashing against large sea stacks. For a moment, life was good and getting better by the second.
At least for that first day.
On day two, real life came rolling back in, tethering us to everything we were trying to escape. My cousin’s 94-year-old mother, who lives with her, ended up in the hospital. My cousin’s brother, who was staying at her house to watch over their mother, then wrecked his niece’s car on his way to visit his mom in the hospital. Suddenly, my cousin’s vacation time was split between our activities and phone calls, as she managed those crisis situations. Similarly, my mother had gone to visit her sister while I was away. Antics ensued in Pittsburgh, requiring me to be on the phone multiple times to manage disruptions my mother was causing to the arrangements I had made for the sale of her house and the items we left behind.
I won’t lie—part of me felt sorry for myself for hot second (maybe a little longer). There I was, in a gorgeous place surrounded by people I love, yet I was not getting what I needed. I could not disengage from my real life in any meaningful way or get the rest I desperately needed. Seriously, what gives JT? That bright moon was not making everything all right for me.
But this is just life, right? And at least I was temporarily in a beautiful place, even if it wasn’t the complete escape I had hoped for. The truth is that there is no escape from this season of life. No exotic location or amount of money can prevent us from confronting this late middle-age chapter, where our parents become as needy as young children, and our grown kids still need us in new ways we didn’t anticipate.
We never know what’s coming, so maybe vacations are better viewed as buffers than escapes. The distance, the change of scenery, the break from a normal schedule, all of it provides just enough of a boost to send us back to our homes with the energy needed to handle everyday life stuff until we can plan our next vacation.
If you’d like a little peek at Cabo and my family trip, feel free to watch this YouTube slideshow I created. https://youtu.be/5rvIn7mYp5w
How about you? Has your relationship with vacations become more complicated with age?