It is essential to lose track of time.

Sometimes. And I know this is a luxury. (It shouldn’t have to be!) But there is joy and healing found in losing two hours to cross-stitch, without looking at a phone or a clock.

In the vintage radio and computer museum, when suddenly you’re hungry and your knees ache from standing and you realize three and a half hours have passed.

When it’s last call in the tasting room and you can’t believe it, two hours slipped away in stories and new flavors.

At home with a book or reclined in the sunshine. In public spaces that are still free of charge.

On hiking trails or even on a stroll around your own neighborhood that became 90 minutes long, somehow.

The one thing these experiences had in common were: they did not involve the internet, or any smart device. (Though when I was truly struck by something I snapped a picture on my phone, I admit).

The most fortunate (or my favorite) way to lose track of time is by spending time with the people I love best. Remembering, sharing, laughing. Drinking beer and eating pretzels.

In sum, I took a weeklong staycation, split between Philadelphia and Asbury Park, NJ (plus a few stops in between) and I saw a lot and learned even more.

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