I’ve been to Hawaii three times, St. Martin, three times, Tulum, two times, and there’s more. I’ve been to Disney World five times, I’ve been to the South of France three times and Paris three times. I’ve been to London twice and California dozens of times.
I’m not alone in my revisit-itis. When I was 15 and 16, on consecutive years, my mother took my sister and me on vacation without my dad, who had to work. We went to Disney World for four days followed by three days in Fort Lauderdale to relax on the beach. Why did we do the exact same trip 12 months later? Many people have seasonal houses they return to season after season, and I’m slowly understanding the benefits of returning to a familiar place.
I want to relive the same blissful experience, relive those iconic vacation moments, recapturing that temporary euphoric feeling. It’s akin to reaching for a coping method of choice on a bad day. It’s comforting, safe and overall, easy. You’ve been there, you don’t have to waste your time acquainting yourself with the area; you are familiar with the best restaurants, beaches, supermarkets. You know the secret beaches and where to get cheap straw hats and fresh strawberries.
So why does it make me feel so guilty? My bucket list begins and ends with a passion to see the world – as much as I can. Australia, Japan, Bali, the Northern Lights! Why did I go back to Paris when I could have gone to Ireland? Why did I go back to Hawaii when I could have gone to Tahiti?
I’m hard on myself even when it’s time to relax.
Sometimes I want to go back because I want to take my children there and show them what I’ve seen. This just happened as I made my FOURTH trip to Hawaii, the first time with my kids and I was instantly reminded of why I go back.
I go back because of the experiences, because of a FEELING derived from stimulating all your senses all at once. It’s the sound of the ocean with the view of crystal waves so clear you can see turtles in the folds. It’s the golden powder sand, glinting with natural glitter underfoot massaging your feet with the finest grains. It’s the explosion of florals tickling your nose in many directions, fruit that tastes like sweeter childhood memories of fruit, the sun that kisses you awake. Every hair on my body stands alert, a soldier on shore leave.
I go back, because, like an addict, I just want that exact fix.