I Can't Get It Out Of My Head

I like vacations.  There are times when I can’t stop thinking about them.  Dreaming about them.  At least when they include a destination I’ve been to and enjoyed.  But it’s still not so much the destination as the feelings it evokes.  I see a picture of a lake and I remember being there.  Relaxed, feeling the warmth of the sun, the rolling of the waves.  Being with family under the best of circumstances.  I do sometimes wish I could take more people.  I like my little clan of three, but I think I like the idea of including others in the dream, if the dream is even sharable.  “Bank job in the city.”  Not far from where I am.  Accounting job in the city.  Not much space for the creative mind.  Where does the soul hide while on the clock?  And you can’t just move there.  Because it’s not the destination.  Can you move to a feeling?  Does an ideal have boundaries you can permanently cross into?  I open the gates and cross the threshold only to exit what I had just entered.  It’s a curtain, a veil, a fleeting memory, a dying dream.  But still a picture brings me back.  The clock is ticking.  It’s punched.  I step out the door and am turned around, back at the clock, again and again and again.

I really like vacations.