HOOKY

Soul boost.

Searching for sand dollars on the beach. A baby laughing hilariously. Yo-Yo Ma playing his cello. Mandatory Dance Songs. 

Rewind ten years. A 58 minute drive would transport me from Crazy-Busy-Life to the boardwalk that rimmed the beach of my favorite Shore Town (apologies Jersey friends, I do know better, but I still call it the beach.)  Spring Lake. A sleepy seaside town chock-full of charming front-porched homes and a mom-n- pop ice cream shop that made the most luscious black raspberry and pumpkin pie ice cream on the planet.

At least once every spring and fall, I'd awaken to a gorgeous blue sky and envision Spring Lake. It was undeniably a hooky kind of day.

I'd pack the car, the baby and toddler, then head over to the elementary school to sign my daughters out of school.  At 10 am. Suspicious student patrol person would glance up from the truancy list she was highlighting the second she noticed I had left the “Reason for Dismissal” line blank.  

“Are your daughters returning to school?” she'd inquire.

“Yes. Tomorrow.”

“Do they have a doctor’s appointment?”

"No. A family obligation."

"A funeral?"

"No. Their mother feels obliged to go to the beach."

"That is an illegal absence," she'd scold.

"Good to know.  See you tomorrow." 

I should have invited Student Patrol Person to indulge her inner outlaw and come along for our ride. She would tiptoe into the surf and realize that certain kinds of days must be spent outdoors. She would examine a jellyfish and understand that there's a whole lot of learning to do beside an ocean that isn't crammed with tourists and summer people. She would make sandcastles and get it that playing hooky at the beach with your kids is good for your kids. 

And your soul. 

Yesterday was a hooky kind of day. At the beginning of the busiest week of the year, I ditched stress and obligation for a play date with my best boy friend. 

The friend who rushes to the ER when your life is falling apart.

 

The friend who installs an air conditioner unit in the stifling second floor bedroom where you'll spend every summer and early fall day on bed rest.

The friend who loves your kids, and exalts in their accomplishments almost as much as you do.

The friend who tells you you're being ridiculous, or you really need a haircut.

 

The friend who spoils and surprises. And never fails to show up.

My friend who loves unconditionally- and is loved unconditionally- arrived from Manhattan mid-morning. We didn't go to the beach, the nearby vineyards or shops. We sat at a table and talked for hours; wine at lunch and dinner.

We used to work eleven hour days, then grab a bite to eat and dish about friends and work. Now we discuss companies in bankruptcy and the transformation of an industry.

We used to plan parties. Now we plan memorials.

We used to gossip and travel. Now we catch up via voice mail and text message.

 

We used to dream and hope and inspire each other. We still dream and hope and inspire each other.

Most things change over the years. 

But certain kinds of days must be spent with a best friend. 

Soul mates happily, joyfully playing hooky from life.

The ultimate Soul Boost.

QUING Hereby Decrees:  It's Christmastime. Skip the stress.  Plan a hooky kind of day.