Sometimes I’m relieved, in a confusing kind of way, to get the chance to escape the suffocation that holidays with family brings; the lack of personal space, the routine, the monotonous and repetitive days and the unrealistic assumptions that seem to arise when you’re with people who know you better than anyone else in the world.
It’s felt different this time, it’s an escape, but a prison and so physically exhausting that it seems impossible my mind can be working at such intense levels.
My favourite part of the day becomes the lounging around in the sun drinking ginger beer and listening to iPods, as opposed to the love of the beach that seems so in the past. Sometimes we’ll be driving to the beach and I’m sitting there with the window down and my music blasting in my ears and my seatbelt undone and I’ll dread the moment that the car stops because I’m so content just watching the shrubs flash past on the roadside.
I’m putting it down to a bout of homesickness, the stress of year 12 holiday homework and the simple laziness teenagers are famous for.
When I’m back home I’ll pine for the beach and the sand and the crash of the waves to lull me to sleep. I’ll miss the family card games and the long walks on the beach with siblings. I’ll dream of ‘escaping’ and turning off my phone and living in a tent. But for now, it’s nice to have another change of pace and the prospect of 8 hours on the road excites me in a way it never used to two years ago. Oh the woes and joys of growing up.