I'm heading to help my cousin's annual benefit for Hoops4Hope which will be hosted at the estate once owned occupied by Marilyn Monroe and Arthur Miller. The current owners have been tremendous supporters of my cousin's organization and for the last 7 years, my long weekend in support of his work has been my only vacation. There, I run errands, set up the silent auction, pick up arrivals, and help organize. I also assist on moving all items from point A to point B.
Some might say this isn't a vacation - I am working, after all - but it really is. I am constantly driving along the ocean and smelling the salt air. I'm in view of the gorgeousness of Amagansett, East Hampton, and Montauk. I'm in the company of my bloodline and I'm without responsibility to my academic life. Instead, I simply can enjoy the labor.
and so I will miss the final day of personal writing and college essays. All the students are in incredible shape and I totally trust the 'prom' they will host for themselves. I have terrible pangs knowing I will miss the last day, but my duties beckon me elsewhere (besides, starting Tuesday, I need to be at Georgetown University).
So, today, this afternoon, I travel. I head south across the sound for a four day weekend that has been a ritual the last seven years. I'm promising myself to run everyday, eat well, and to soak in the scenery as best as I can.