I’ve started this post three different ways now and can’t decide exactly what I’m trying to say. Maybe it’s just that vacation was wonderful, like it should be, and I was granted the privilege of seeing my sons with fresh eyes—their beauty, vibrancy, and innocence. It’s hard not to do that when strangers light up around them, gazing and commenting with admiration. I have little daily moments of the same appreciation, but that pure enjoyment of being with my boys is often competing against the daily grind. Today was right back to normal—groceries and diaper pile-ups and dishwasher-loading and constant attention-seeking from my little ones. Snow blustering outside our kitchen window and skin tightening in the dry Wisconsin air. Anna Maria already feels like a surreal dream. I’m not sad, or frustrated, or disappointed, just a little dazed. But most of all, grateful that I can vacation in the first place. That I can remind the sun that we’re waiting for her up north.