pressing pause

We left Rome behind, watching the city fade as we drove north, looking for a chance to hit pause and just be.

This was my first real vacation in over 15 years. I’d traveled plenty—Japan, Argentina, Berlin—but always with a purpose, mostly work, sometimes family. This time, there was no agenda except to rest, recharge, and spend time with my better half. Maybe even finish a book. It was time to listen to that voice inside that had been begging for a break.

Tuscany welcomed us with dusty roads, rolling hills, and vineyards that seemed to stretch forever. We arrived at a friend’s family vineyard, where life followed the seasons, not the clock. Our days were simple: barefoot in the grass, clinking glasses, and laughing late into the night.

At a countryside B&B, time felt like it had stopped. We read by the pool, the sun relentless until it drove us into the water. In those quiet moments, I reconnected with myself, and enjoyed long, peaceful hours with N. Swimming, a midday nap, finding delight in old buildings and new flavors—just soaking up the beauty around us.

Wading into warm water felt magical, the sea holding us gently. We dug our toes into the sand, ate local tomatoes bursting with flavor, and watched sunsets over the Mediterranean that were almost too vivid to be real. Sustenance isn’t just about food; it’s about rest. To keep going, we need to pause and enjoy these simple pleasures.

The more I relaxed, the more I wanted to pick up my camera—not out of duty, but from a renewed desire to capture what I was feeling. I took photos just for me, small reminders of this special time when I let myself pause and enjoy the stillness.

This trip wasn’t just good for my work—it was good for me. I came back grateful for the chance to pause, collect, and sustain.

As we drove back to Rome, the car was filled with memories and a lightness I hadn’t felt in years. Oh and I did finish that novel.