The Last Day of a Vacation

My friend Chris, who enjoys traveling as much as I do, likes to milk every last minute of a trip. If the plan is to return on Sunday, he’d rather spend the whole of the day in whatever place he happens to find himself, returning at the last possible moment to make it in for work the next day. I am the exact opposite – I prefer to leave early on the last morning of a vacation or trip away – the last day is always too sad and depressing for me to enjoy anything. I also like to have at least half a day of decompression time – when I can get back into the normal swing of everyday life, as dull and mundane as that may be. It’s part of the reason I returned from NYC last weekend on Saturday instead of Sunday. I wanted to keep that excellent trip – short and sweet as it was – in some small window of wonderment – a jewel-box of fleeting splendor, captured perfectly forever in a single night. And I knew I’d need a come-down period to process and face the drudgery of the nitty-gritty November of upstate New York.

Yet I’m starting to wonder if Chris may have a good idea. It makes sense – why not prolong the vacation for as long as possible? Why rush the inevitable? Why not make the return Monday the decompression period and let the co-workers deal with the beast?

I don’t know. I still think it would make me too sad to dwell on what I’d be leaving that day. I’ve never been good at good-byes, especially one drawn out through an entire day. But I did it in Las Vegas, and that was one of the best parts of the trip, so perhaps it may be time for a change in the way I do things. It’s never too late to improve.

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