You know you’ve stepped off the fast track when the biggest decision you face is: “Beach or poolside?”
I was proud of myself for scheduling four days of rest and relaxation after what felt like a five-week, action-packed marathon that culminated in my conference keynote just two days earlier.
If you want something done, simply ask a group of nurses.
Julie Morris, President of the Board of the Florida Health Care Association, kindly arranged transportation for me after the conference so I wouldn’t have to spend hundreds of dollars on a Lyft or Uber to return to my place in Miami Beach.
Yamilet and Linda, two wonderful conference attendees, graciously volunteered to drive me door-to-door. Linda had just received a Nurse Leaders Award, so the back of the SUV was overflowing with beautiful flower arrangements from her colleagues at Hialeah Shores Nursing & Rehabilitation Center.
I offered to buy wraps, cold waters, or at least contribute toward gas. They politely declined, and we set off on our journey.
As we traveled across miles of flat Florida landscape, I felt tired, grateful, and curious. After three days of constant engagement, some people might welcome the chance to sit quietly for several hours without smiling, talking, or interacting. After all, conferences can be wonderfully energizing—and exhausting.
And then there are those of us with a voracious appetite for connecting with people in deep and meaningful ways.
I couldn’t resist.
Since we had about 145 miles ahead of us, I launched my first open-ended question.
“Yamilet, as a Director of Nursing, can you walk me through a typical day at your skilled nursing community?”
“Sure,” she replied.
Before she could begin, I added a disclaimer.
“Take your time. After all, we have a three-hour ride ahead of us!”
They say that if you want to understand someone else’s reality, you need to walk a mile in their shoes. In this case, it was more like driving three hours in their shoes.
As the miles passed, I listened while both women described the choreography, precision, compassion, and teamwork required to care for residents in skilled nursing communities each day.
As we zipped past what felt like the three-thousandth palm tree swaying in the breeze, I noticed nine-foot-high metal fencing lining both sides of the highway, topped with barbed wire. I spotted a sign mentioning panthers.
Being a New York City dweller, I innocently asked:
“Panthers? Isn’t that the name of a Florida sports team? Do you think this is their training facility?”
Polite laughter erupted from the front seat.
There’s a famous line from The Wizard of Oz when Dorothy says, “Toto, I’ve a feeling we’re not in Kansas anymore.”
My nurse tour guides patiently explained:
“Lisa, there are wild Florida panthers in this area. The fences help prevent the animals from getting onto the road.”
As the hours rolled by, I found myself increasingly eager to see my husband, Jacob, and arrive at my destination. Unfortunately, our three-hour ride to Miami Beach was hijacked by a sneaky GPS that instructed Yamilet to exit Interstate 95 just thirty minutes from my front door.
One hour later, we finally said our goodbyes, and Jacob helped me roll my suitcase into the lobby.
Life is what happens when you’re busy making plans.
I certainly didn’t plan to do four loads of laundry after discovering that all the dresses hanging in my closet were damp.
“That’s odd. Why are all my clothes wet?”
Two hours later, the HVAC technician—thankfully still on duty before the weekend—made a house call. A motor in the air-conditioning unit had failed, and he promised to return Monday morning with the necessary part.
Miraculously, there was no water damage and no mold.
Relieved, I grabbed a wonderful book by Virginia Evans and retired to the balcony. Jacob brought me a cold drink, and we spent the afternoon reading side by side while watching a June rainstorm roll across the horizon.
Over the next two days, I slept in—a luxury that always feels wonderfully decadent. My body thanked me for a two-hour afternoon nap as well.
A wise person learns to listen to their body, and I am grateful for the times I heed that advice rather than immediately accelerating back to 100 miles per hour.
Fortunately, Jacob discovered a 12-pack of kosher macaroons at the local Publix supermarket.
We sampled a different flavor after lunch or dinner each day. Sometimes we waited for them to thaw.
Spoiler alert: sometimes I popped one into my mouth straight from the freezer.
Given the Florida humidity, a frozen macaroon seemed perfectly appropriate.
Having finished my first book, I followed my usual ritual of picking up another and escaping into a new reality.
Divine Corners is written by Michelle Friedman, an author friend I met years ago at the JCC swimming pool on Manhattan’s Upper West Side.
Two years ago, Michelle was featured in the Modern Love column of The New York Times. When I saw her recently, she excitedly shared that her agent had secured a publisher.
As I sat beside the ocean, I devoured her poignant story of growing up on a chicken farm in the Catskill Mountains and being raised by parents who survived the Holocaust.
I highly recommend this moving story of resilience, family, and faith.
On the final evening of my brief R&R retreat, I met two close Miami-based friends for dinner. We laughed, shared stories, and picked up the conversation exactly where we had left off.
Best friends are like that.
You are always in excellent company with your chosen family.
Now, as I fly home to New York City, I am reading Theo of Golden by Allen Levi. I’ll be home in just a few hours, but for now, I am happily lost in the pages—and proud that I truly allowed myself to rest.
I’m sending you strength and love.
Soaringwords is the power to heal.
