Within my line of sight, at this very moment, are the following: a churning Pacific on the rocky California coastline, seagulls swooping and diving in hopes of treasure, multitudes of iconic cypress against the backdrop of the infinity of a cloudy horizon, and a warm, crackling fire. My ears hear the waves as they crash and the gulls as they compete. My nose tries to decide if my hot tea is more fragrant, or, instead, the heady aroma of home fires burning. In other words, my senses are full and happy.

But better yet, is the knowledge that my man is standing, not in his office or in front of a client, but on the first tee of a long-coveted golf-course he’s never played. With him is the male half of a great couple that we have not seen in six years, whose wife is currently two doors down from me at the hotel, and who, like me, is getting ready for a fun girls’ day.

We’ve put a lot of time and thought into this trip, and it’s been spectacular thus far. My heart seems so full, it could burst at any given time. But I’m left to wonder this:

Why do we wait so long to do things like this? Why do we wait AT ALL?

Did we have to come half-way across the country to enjoy time with friends? With these friends, yes, as they live in a different state from us. But, in general, we, at least, don’t cultivate the friends we have at home, all around us, like we should. When did we stop inviting people over for a casual meal at home? Why don’t we ask others to enjoy our own view around a backyard fire? Are the filling of our senses and our hearts not just as important on the ground where we live?

I’m hoping to fill my heart so full on this trip, that maybe I’ll spill the overflow into my everyday world and realize that there are wonders to behold, no matter where I am.