I went to work this morning still feeling the joy, and the jetlag, of the rush of forty-eight hours. It was the perfect weekend, in so many ways. These weekends are rare; I guess that's what makes them so special when they come. It was a completely out-of-the-ordinary set of days, half a world away, in the kind of place that I dream about when I close my eyes and let only my heart speak. Brick buildings and horse pastures and summer thunder storms with liquid sunshine. We honored a love story and danced in the rain; I ate pancakes bigger than my head and slept in fluffy white sheets at a fancy-shmancy hotel where shoes are always required. I took it all in. It was the most beautiful sight you ever did see.
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| travel socks |
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| a dream |
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| high school weddings |
Now, I'm searching for more perfect weekends. Saving for red-eye flights across the country, stealing moments with the dreams that California can't offer.
On my list:
Chicago, Boston (kicking myself for canceling last year's weekend get-away), Nashville, New Orleans, Charleston, and more.
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| america the beautiful |
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