Autopilot.

I took my first shower at home today since I’ve been back. Honestly, it’s been a little overwhelming arriving home to my husband and three littles after being away and this is the first time I’ve had a moment to gather my thoughts. There were hardly any thoughts while I was in Puerto Rico, aside from…. “what should I have for lunch?” or, “I think I’ll pull my chair into the shade now”. It was glorious having so little to think or worry about, but arriving home has me feeling devastated at how much I’ve missed while I was gone.

My eldest daughters hair is so long now – she really needs a trim. My middle is beaming with two new brand new adult front teeth. My littlest isn’t so little anymore. They’re all speaking in full sentences, at the same time, while somehow also respecting each other (most of the time), and trying to catch me up on all I’ve missed. There have been dance classes and Taekwando lessons, and school and holiday traditions and leprechaun traps. My middle looks more confident and athletic than I remember. We stop for dinner on the way home from the airport to avoid rush hour traffic and the little boy in my lap at the dinner table is suddenly so big that I can’t see past him to look at the menu. Their daddy lets one of the girls go into the ladies room on her own, and she comes back to the table by herself. My reaction surprised her when I asked if she had let him know she left, only to discover that he’d gone the opposite way into the mens room with our little boy. I suppose she’s old enough now, but wasn’t it just yesterday that she learned to walk? I sat at dinner in awe of my little family, and heartbroken at how quickly time has passed.

My husband is tired, but present, patient, and loving. He doesn’t make me feel guilty for leaving them. He’s glad to finally have me home.

You see, I was only in Puerto Rico for 46 hours. Yes, hours. Just barely long enough to get a sunburn, eat way too many tostones, and read an entire book without interruption. I don’t know if my mother invited me on her vacation because she wanted a travel companion, or a drinking buddy, or someone to locate restaurants, or because she knew that I needed to be alone with the ocean. In many ways the entire experience feels like a dream; like an out of body experience. Vague memories of bright sun and warm ocean, delicious octopus and chicharrones.

And yet, by coming home I realize that I’ve missed far more than 46 hours.

How long ago did I fall victim to the inevitable routine of life? How long ago did I stop paying attention to the light in the eyes of my daughter when she shows me her schoolwork, or the conviction with which my middle practices her Taekwondo form? When did I stop noticing that my baby boy still giggles from his belly?

The wonder in the faces of my children is so alive but at some point my blinders went up and I began to just power through each day without stopping to enjoy each and every moment. It’s tragic, really.

The days are long, but the years are short. I’ve always read that phrase as meaning that the days are so long they can be difficult to get through. Sure, that’s still true sometimes, but the days should be long because we slow down to enjoy every moment. Pause, breathe, and make every second count. Watch my kid change in and out of his Spider-Man outfit so that he can run into the room as himself, then Spider-Man, then himself and then Spider-Man again. Act surprised every single time. Make that chocolate milkshake they’ve been asking for all morning. Invite my eldest into bed for a snuggle – she won’t want to snuggle up in my bed forever. Savor it. Remove the blinders. Take yourself off autopilot.

At dinner, on our way home from the airport, I caught my middle looking up at me. I smiled at her and after a beat she said, “Mommy, you look happy”. I responded with, “I’ve been with the ocean”. And she said, “You should be with the ocean every day”. Her response struck me in a way that I had not been prepared for. Anyone who knows me knows of my deep love and connection to the salt, sand and waves of the Sea. Her words were thoughtful, and sweet. But although my 46-hour trip was relaxing, I don’t think I was ever as happy in Puerto Rico as I was sitting right there in a chaotic restaurant with three kids and my tired husband.

In that moment, I became lost for words. But what I should have told her, and what I want to show my family every day is…

My darling, you are my Ocean.