TEXARKANA MAGAZINE
T he first thing I noticed was how blue the water looked. It wasn’t regular blue either… vacation blue. It was that blue you see on Instagram that looks fake in photos and makes everybody back home comment things like “Need this!” while sitting in traffic on their lunch break. The four of us stood there for a second when we first arrived, just staring at the ocean as if we had discovered it ourselves. I think that’s what vacations really are at their core—grown adults paying thousands of dollars to temporarily believe life is softer than it actually is, right? And it’s worth every penny, let’s not lie. The resort itself looked like something out of a White Lotus episode. Palm trees were swaying dramatically in the wind. White curtains were blowing outside beachfront rooms. Fancy people were walking around carrying drinks that had cucumber slices floating in them for absolutely no reason. Love that. I spent the week doing what I do best: observing everything. Vacations are fascinating because people become who they wish they were all year long. The stressed-out become relaxed. The insecure become confident. The exhausted become adventurous. Even if it’s only temporary. There was one night in particular that I will never forget. The four of us sat outside by the water long after everybody else had gone inside. The air was warm; the waves were loud enough to drown out every stressful thought I had carried with me, and for the first time in a long time, life felt still. No notifications to tend to. Busy schedules felt like a thing of the past. We felt no pressure to constantly be productive. We were just four friends laughing until our stomachs hurt while the ocean crashed in front of us. As I get older, I realize the most valuable thing we have is time. Every day counts, and these are the best ones. They are the ones you don’t want to rush, and it’s not because they are extravagant. Everybody is so busy and tired now. Everybody is healing from something. Of course, on vacation, we easily pay twenty-seven dollars for a smoothie that tastes exactly like one we could get at Walmart for $3.98. I’m so naturally pale and always get so sunburnt that it quickly becomes medically concerning. And I’ve discovered that luxury restaurants will put the tiniest amount of food imaginable on a plate and then decorate it with a leaf for confidence. But I understand why people chase experiences like this. Life doesn’t magically become perfect beside the ocean, but sometimes changing your scenery, even temporarily, reminds you that life can still surprise you. You see there is still beauty and laughter and some softness amongst the sharp edges of the world. Thank God! By the last morning, of course, none of us really wanted to leave. We stood on the beach holding coffees, already talking about “next year” like people do when they are trying to keep a good thing alive for just a few seconds longer. The waves crashed. The breeze moved through the trees. The sun reflected across the water. And then the lady behind me at Dairy Queen yelled, “Sir, are you gonna pull forward or not?” Because none of this actually happened. I have never been on a luxury vacation. There was no beachfront resort. No ocean. No matching swimsuits. No spiritual healing beside the waves. The entire trip was something I made up, daydreaming in my car in Texarkana while everybody else on social media spent the summer in Greece, Florida, Cancun, Italy, and probably the moon. But for a few minutes, I could almost hear the ocean over the sound of Richmond Road traffic. That felt close enough.
GOOD EVENING TXK COLUMN BY BAILEY GRAVITT
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SPORTS & ENTERTAINMENT
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