This is not a segue into a cynical observation about how nothing ever lives up to our expectations, and things we look forward to usually end up disappointing us, just the opposite. It's that expectation itself never disappoints.
Nancy and I just booked a June trip to Aruba. I cannot tell you how this little thought transforms every object that falls upon my eye. Driving 285 in the lowering sun makes me think of standing on the deck of a catamaran sharing a sunset cocktail with Nancy. Heaving bags of recyclables to the curb, reminds me of snorkling amid colorful fish and bright coral. The thought of Aruba cheers me in direct proportion to how mundane and dreary my surroundings are. I have a little joke on the commonplace world. Ha, ha! Aruba, suckers!
Footloose types who say one day, "Heck, I'm going to Aruba," and book a flight for later that morning are missing months of potential delight they could have had anticipating. Aruba will be a paradise, I know, but it can't help being a paradise. It's Aruba. The marvel is, just the thought of Aruba makes Georgia in December a paradise.
