In the past few days, my eyes have seen so many of your happy photos.
\nWhat\u2019s in them?
\nStrawberries basking in champagne bubbles in tanned hands.
\nHair flying in a speeding convertible.
\nCheeks kissed by the sun and smiles as wide as rainbows.<\/p>\n
And me?
\nI sit and feel pure, white envy.
\nStrawberries. Champagne bubbles. And trips\u2026
\n\u201ceaten\u201d by My, sleeping cozily in my arms.
\n\u201cNever mind,\u201d I smile, \u201cmy turn will come\u201d\u2014I comfort myself.<\/p>\n
But I feel that almost every day, I scroll through vacation photos.
\nThis time, my personal eye stopped on an \u201cillustration\u201d with a caption.
\nI read it. I remembered.
\nAnd I decided\u2014I miss it terribly.
\nReal, empty-headed vacations. With a personal navigator.<\/p>\n
BEFORE SLEEP.
\nAbout personal \u201cnavigators.\u201d
\nI sit in a mountain lift with heated seats, like a little cake, looking around.
\nMountains.
\nBeautiful.
\nFresh air.<\/p>\n
I have one unwritten duty, which I set for myself and diligently follow\u2014
\nI photograph everything with my phone.
\nWhether needed or not.
\n\u201cMaybe it\u2019ll be useful later.\u201d
\nBecause female logic tiptoes on the edges\u2026
\n\u2026that memories must be preserved.<\/p>\n
Meanwhile, my husband\u2014every time he gets into the lift\u2014pulls out a map and studies it carefully.
\n(as if he really enjoys this process)
\nThere\u2019s barely time to even snap a photo.
\nWhere to get off.
\nWhere to get on.
\nWhere to ski down.
\nWhere to \u201claunch.\u201d
\nAnd which lift to transfer to next.<\/p>\n
Looking left and right, I wait for the command when my \u201cadmiring\u201d will be interrupted, and my vacation-mode ears will be told to get off.
\nI obey.
\nI never argue.
\nBecause if not aloud, I at least admit to myself that if they told me to point on the map where I am now, I\u2019d probably just say: \u201con vacation.\u201d<\/p>\n
If we go with the family into a forest, it\u2019s embarrassing to admit, but I couldn\u2019t tell, even a few trees away, which way home is.
\nBut there are solutions.
\nI\u2019ve never cried under a tree.
\nEither we go with a personal navigator, or\u2026 we walk in the forest as far as we can see the car we parked, to get back safely.<\/p>\n
If we go on a road trip, driving through some European city center\u2014my palms start sweating just from sitting next to the driver.
\nFour-plus lanes,
\n\u201cmillions\u201d of cars,
\nlots of honking\u2026
\nand road signs that are hard to understand at first glance.<\/p>\n
And\u2026
\nthere I am, on vacation.
\nLike a little cake.
\nWith that same duty, leaning out the window, photographing with my phone\u2014
\nafter all, it\u2019s very important for the family to have these moments captured.<\/p>\n
If they told me to take the wheel and drive alone through some part of central Barcelona\u2014I\u2019d probably hit the hazard lights and cry pitifully on the side of the road.
\nThere\u2019s no discussion about me driving the family on foreign vacations.
\nI could focus, I know how to drive and I basically know the signs, but then there would be no time or energy left for enjoying the vacation.<\/p>\n
Maybe I\u2019m just the type who\u2019s loosely attached to her surroundings, but there was a recent case in Vilnius when trying to find point A, where the GPS led me via the new bypass\u2014after going around three times\u2026 I just put my head down, found the contact \u201cZuikis\u201d in my phone, and quietly, quieter than quiet, after hearing his \u201cYes?\u201d on the line, I said\u2026
\n\u201cListen, Zuiki, I don\u2019t know where I am. Can you help me?\u201d
\nAnd he helped.<\/p>\n
I don\u2019t know how loudly I laughed inside that I got lost in Vilnius with a navigator, but in his calm voice, I didn\u2019t hear a single trace of my stress.
\nAnd thinking about the reverse situation\u2014I already start laughing inside.
\nIt would be very inconvenient for someone else to call\u2026<\/p>\n
And that\u2019s only half the trouble \ud83d\ude42
\nThey don\u2019t get lost.
\nOr at least, they don\u2019t show it.
\nSometimes I feel like they were born knowing maps, roads, signs, and turns.
\nThey glance at maps.lt and instantly understand the situation. Worst case\u2014they zoom in.
\nIf this street is here, it makes sense that the next is there, and the next is\u2026<\/p>\n
But what if, after ten tries and an eleventh attempt\u2014it still doesn\u2019t happen?
\nMaybe when they distributed this kind of spatial sense, we were standing in another line?
\nOr the one where they distributed beauty?
\nOr\u2026 a boundless attraction to little cloths?
\nOr\u2026 in the line where, without notes, a crazy amount of work and household information lands in our women\u2019s heads, which we juggle like the best circus clowns with colored balls.
\nWhen to schedule a doctor, when to pay for a club, what to pack Monday morning for school\/kindergarten, what clothes are outgrown, when to go to the kids\u2019\/our hairdresser, cosmetologist, or manicure.<\/p>\n
I think men wouldn\u2019t be able to fit that much information in their heads.
\nSo maybe it\u2019s equality?
\nMaybe, standing in these different lines, while they waited at the \u201cnavigators\u201d and we at the \u201cmultitasking,\u201d we caught each other\u2019s eyes?<\/p>\n
\u2606\u2606\u2606<\/p>\n
So tonight I raise a toast to our life\u2019s peace.
\nOr,
\nto the personal navigators that simplify maps.lt for us (when really needed)
\nand prevent stress that, when they were distributing strong qualities\u2014pushing through the beauty line\u2014we missed getting installed with a navigation system in our heads.<\/p>\n
Kiss them before bed.
\nFemale flourishing and that male radio\u2014two of the most beautiful \u201chappenings\u201d on this earth (at least for me).<\/p>\n
V.<\/p>\n
P.S. This text is \u201cbased\u201d only on a personal experience stick and definitely doesn\u2019t apply to everyone who doesn\u2019t need personal navigators.
\nNow, period. Really.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"template":"","class_list":["post-17645","istorija","type-istorija","status-publish","hentry"],"acf":[],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/viktorijos.lt\/en\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/istorija\/17645","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/viktorijos.lt\/en\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/istorija"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/viktorijos.lt\/en\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/istorija"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/viktorijos.lt\/en\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=17645"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}