01:00 AM EST on Wednesday, March 31, 2004

My friend calls it reentry. And as I've discovered this past week, there's no better word to describe those first few days after vacation, that fiery descent back into your world, your routine, your reality.

No matter where you're returning from, if the object of your getaway was to, well, get away from it all -- the job, the bills, the boss, the list -- then you might as well have been on Mars.

I mean, how else can you explain that for a week or so my idea of a deadline was getting to The Magic Kingdom in time to see Tinkerbell soar through the nighttime sky? Or that my concept of pressure was whether or not the Dramamine my husband and I took would hold up on the Tower of Terror and the Rock 'n' Roller Coaster? Or that a decision I actually grappled with was whether I should order a Margarita at the pool or wait until dinner?

Talk about alien.

If you're like me, it often takes a day or two after arriving on vacation to adapt to such an otherworldly environment. To stop checking the messages. To quit trying to be efficient. To leave behind what has to be done and replace it with only the frivolous pursuit of what would be fun to do.

But then it happens. The mission to unwind is accomplished and I'm all sun and sandals and shorts and yes, yes, yes! I'm unwound. It's all great fun, of course, until it's time to pack up my newly discovered state of weightlessness and go home.

That's where the ride gets bumpy. All I know is, the person who boarded that plane at T.F. Green not so long ago is somehow different from the one who has returned. I've changed. Unfortunately, the routine waiting for me hasn't.

With my fresh new perspective, I open the refrigerator door and see the juice that's spilled and the shelves that need to be cleaned. I see the files in my office that I was planning to haul down to the basement. I see the toys in the basement that need to be packaged up and given away. Nothing new here. The juice had been spilt; the files had been waiting; the toys had been sitting for longer than I care to remember. But I'm seeing it all through new eyes now.

Fortunately, my enhanced vision is accompanied by renewed energy. So I start tackling these things and more. Only trouble is, while I was away, my concept of time apparently has gotten a little, well, warped. I never had enough hours before I left to clean refrigerator and files and basement. But here I am going for it and yes, I'd better unpack and there's quite a pile of laundry that's built up and don't forget the bills that are due and tell me again why we thought we could wait until we got back to do our tax returns?

It's only my experience with these landings that comforts me in the midst of my frenetic return to earth. I remind myself that in a few days everything will return to normal.

Well, almost everything.

There is one thing I brought home with me that I'd like to keep around for a while. It's that sparkling bit of optimism that seems to appear whenever I escape the pull of gravity. A cosmic souvenir that I'm sure will come in handy in the days ahead.

Rita Lussier can be reached at ReetsAL [at] aol.com or by mail c/o Features Department, The Providence Journal, 75 Fountain Street, Providence, RI 02902.