Last Wednesday morning, we dropped Adlai off at Simon’s parents’ house and drove to Windsor, where we stayed in a beautiful old hotel for 24 hours. To some of you, 24 hours may not seem like much of a break, but to us, well…it was heavenly.
We checked into our beautiful room, sat down at our table by the window, and stared out at the Berkshire countryside. We did this once last year, when Adlai was about 18 months old, but I had forgotten how weird those first few minutes are when you are by yourselves and there is no toddler asking for milk or Veggie Tales or to play trains, and when there are no emails to send or dishes to wash.
Just 24 hours of us and quiet and anything we wanted to do stretching out before us.
I picked up a Home & Garden magazine and flipped through it. Simon read through the Guest Directory, sharing some of the highlights as he went along: “The bar’s open till 10. It’s two miles to Windsor Castle.”
All of that took about 12 minutes.
For the rest of the 23 hours and 48 minutes, we went swimming in the hotel pool and sat in the jacuzzi (well, Simon sat in; I sat on the edge and hung my feet in so as not to cook our baby); we went out to dinner and lingered over what to order, lingered over conversations about this baby’s name, and how we’re feeling more ready, and what we’re dreaming of for the coming year; we slept till 8:30 (EIGHT-THIRTY!) and ate a huge breakfast, and drank multiple cups of coffee – slowly.
In the hotel bar, we sat by a fire and drank a beer and a ginger ale, respectively.
At the end of our 24 hours, we drove back to Simon’s parents’ house, rested (as rested as you can be at 8 months pregnant), and giddy to see our son’s smile, to hear him say our names.
24 hours. It doesn’t sound like much, but for us, it was just enough. In a way, it felt like God multiplied it; like the bread and fishes, he took what we could bring – one measly day, just enough money for one night away – and made it into abundance.
For us, for now, 24 hours was enough.