We got out to our happy place in Point Reyes Station for only one night last weekend. It was supposed to be a longer stay and we had been looking forward to this trip for a few months, but Stella was really sick at the end of last week so Saturday night was all we got.
We did everything the same as we've done it every time we've been there, with little deviation. Lots of staring out the window over the meadows to Tomales Bay. Some hot tubbing. A barbeque, a walk. We ate oysters fresh from Drake's Bay, the brine much saltier than our usual Tomales Bay oysters. We finished off the last bottle of champagne we bought for the French 75's served at Oliver's birthday party. We watched The Shining. We slept. There is nothing unpoetic about when we go to our happy place, I can't help it.
It's the kind of place that if we didn't stay there two or three times a year, we could put that money into a much bigger trip. But it is hard to stop going there. We have been lucky enough to be doing this for over eight years now and it has always felt like home. So much so that we can all tell when it's been too long between trips. It's so special, I hope the kids remember it when they are older. Actually, I hope when they are older we will still be staying there. Actually, I hope someday we have a happy place to call our own.