Vacation, Vacation, Vacation

vacation Look up vacation at Dictionary.com
c.1386, "freedom or release" (from some activity or occupation), from O.Fr. vacation, from L. vacationem (nom. vacatio) "leisure, a being free from duty," from vacare "be empty, free, or at leisure" (see vain). Meaning "formal suspension of activity" (in ref. to schools, courts, etc.) is recorded from c.1456. As the U.S. equivalent of what in Britain is called a "holiday," it is attested from 1878.

That's from www.etymonline.com, which I love.

I don't think I've ever experienced vacation in its etymological sense quite as acutely as I did last week, after a year-and-a-half of worrying since my husband's last layoff. We have done admirably well at making ends meet by cobbling together freelance gigs and cutting back on expenses, but the intense work on the house and the uncertainty about what next have been constant companions.

My husband's mother, in an act of lavish generosity, gathered as much of her family as she could in a spacious rental house on Nantucket last week, and our biggest concern was what would we make for dinner on the night we had volunteered for mess duty. We only thought about the house once, when a friend called to see if her about-to-move brother could have a look at it, and only meant a call to the realtor.

Wavy beach or sand bar? Tandem bike or single? Burrito or taco? Contemporary novel or classic short stories? What joyful, strain-free choices.

I've vacationed before, but perhaps never from this much responsibility. Maybe our appreciation of release increases with the number and weight of the bonds vacation is releasing us from.

I'm grateful, and trying to figure out how to hang on to the feeling.