“I’m moving here,” I announce flinging my arms up to the indigo sky.

My kids look at each other, with a “Here we go again” smile.

“Be realistic, mom.You can’t sit still for a minute. How are you going to survive two months, let alone a few weeks here? You will go berserk.”

“No, I won’t.” I stomp my sparkly pink toed feet in the sugary sand. “ You can all visit me,” I chirp like a baby Robin who’s just left the nest. Dreamy-eyed, I imagine escaping to a small painted house, only a bike ride away from the closest beach, routine morning hikes alone and quiet afternoons spent completing that novel and screenplay I’ve shelved for years.