FAMILY MATTERS
Magical vacations may not need a 'best' moment

By Michael C. DeMattos

My family and I were sitting in the 22nd row, heading back to Honolulu on a late-afternoon flight. The third week of our summer vacation was coming to a close, and by all accounts, was the trip of a lifetime.

I leaned over as Hilo faded into the distance and asked my daughter what part of the trip she liked best.

She looked at me quizzically, tilted her head to one side and then exclaimed, "Everything."

"You have to pick one; you cannot say 'Everything,' " I insisted. "There must be something you thought was 'the best.' "

"But why?" she asked.

"Because!" I retorted with as much intelligence as I could muster.

After more prodding and cajoling, she finally said that staying at the hotel with her uncles and cousins was the best part of the trip.

As I looked into her eyes I realized that the forced choice had stripped away some of the magic. The luster had come off the jewel that was her summer vacation.

I wondered how many times we rob our experiences of their enchantment in an attempt to hierarchically categorize them. For everything we label as "the best," there are a slew of experiences that are treated like second-class citizens.

Interestingly, this was not the first time that I asked my daughter what she enjoyed most about her vacation. After trailblazing Kilauea Crater, I asked which she enjoyed most: the lava tubes, the sulfur beds or the steaming vents? Again, she said that she liked them all, and again, I forced her to choose.

The plane had reached cruising altitude, and despite flying above the clouds, I was feeling low. I leaned over to my daughter again, except this time I asked her to simply describe her vacation.

She began recounting the highlights of her trip. Slowly at first and then with growing excitement, she described in detail each day of her vacation. Each experience was bound in emotions that bubbled over in the retelling.

With a glint in her eye, she turned the tables and asked, "So what did you like best about our vacation?"

"I liked it all," I replied.

"You have to pick one," she implored. "What was your favorite part?"

Now it was my turn. I felt like a kid. I told her about playing golf and going down the water slide and eating Portuguese bean soup with pickled vegetables. I told her about Mommy and Daddy's dinner date. She laughed aloud and called me a "kissy face."

"I don't think I can choose. I do not know if I want to choose just one," I conceded.

She looked at me with wise eyes and said, "Maybe we do not have to choose this time. Maybe it was all the best."

"Maybe you are right," I replied.

As we put our seats in the upright position and prepared for landing, the setting sun gleamed on the horizon, and I knew in that moment that the luster of our vacation was there all along. All it needed was the even polishing of an unencumbered memory.

Family therapist Michael C. DeMattos has a master's degree in social work.