The cliffside hike from Monterosso al Mare, the most northern seaside village of Italy’s renowned Cinque Terre, to neighboring Vernazza is extraordinarily scenic, but it’s also arduous—the two colorful, ancient towns are connected by an endless series of steep stairways that overlook the rugged coast. “I can’t endure another step,” I breathlessly told my thirty year old daughter after a few minutes of strenuous climbing. She suggested I turn around and take the train back to our rented apartment in Riomaggiore, the southernmost village, while she continued on. 

One look out my window, and there was no mistaking where I was. The early morning sun was playing hide and seek with the clouds and buildings. I lay there watching the light show thinking, I MUST GET UP.  The sun was shining and I was in San Francisco, one of the most beautiful cities in the world - but I did not want to get out of my bed. You may be thinking I had a wee bit too much wine the night before, or perhaps there was another, more seductive reason to linger. But no, it was the bed itself that wooed me.

I’ve lived near the water my entire life. Summer days were spent running toes through the sand and jumping through endless waves. At university, I met a girl from Kansas and asked her what she did during the summer - many of our answers were different. I don’t think I appreciated the beauty of landlocked regions until much later in life. In my opinion, the sun rose and set on oceans and beaches - everything else was moot. Travel changed that. Interaction with others changed that.

“Mom, what’s for dinner?” It’s a question my kids used to ask all the time. I found myself fumbling through my thoughts on a daily basis, too, about 3 p.m. wondering what should we eat tonight? The result, not always, but sometimes, was either picking up Chinese food, throwing together a quick meal that no one (myself included) was really looking forward to eating, or getting so overwhelmed with everything else going on that we had cereal for dinner.