The best part of embarking on a vacation
Is not escape from the rush of life—
Not relief from the weight of obligation,
Or the quiet ache of daily strife.
Nor is it the marvelous, breathtaking views:
Not the spectacular ocean’s rising tide,
Nor the country roads with lush hues,
Or the sapphire sky stretched endlessly wide.
The best part of vacation
Is simply missing You—
It hurts—yet brings a deep elation—
For when I miss You, I’m reminded anew
Of all I am in loving You.
For I awaken to a quiet sense
Of who I am when You’re not near.
In the hollow carved by Your absence,
The essence of who I am becomes clear.
And when the journey comes to conclude
And You stand before me, face to face,
Your absence lingers, echoing clear and true.
The hollow I have carried keeps its place—
For part of who I am continues to miss You.