I’ve always struggled with Sundays. Ever since I was a child, the mere thought of returning back to school after a weekend free of hangups and homework would cause me to spend my last hours of freedom under a figurative stormcloud. I’ve since learned to value my weekends and enjoy the entirety of each Sunday, but that old familiar feeling still seems to return at the end of vacations. Such is the case this evening, as I prepare to return to the office after a week away.

I was lucky enough to spend the last several days on Cape Cod relaxing and exploring Massachusetts’ historic peninsula. My mother rented a quaint home in East Falmouth, and graciously invited my sister and her boyfriend, as well as my girlfriend and me, to join her.

After familiarizing ourselves with the house and polishing off a couple bottles of wine on Saturday, we woke up and headed toward the Shining Sea Bikeway on Sunday morning.

The picturesque path stretches more than 10 miles between Woods Hole and North Falmouth, as it was originally a portion of the Plymouth and Vineyard Sound Railroad. Interestingly, its name is derived from the last line of “America the Beautiful,” which was originally penned by Katherine Lee Bates – a Falmouth native.

We had planned on heading up the bikeway, hoping to see some of the privately-owned cranberry bogs a few miles to the north, but unknowingly pointed our bikes south after unloading them at Depot Avenue. We were all a bit confused at the sight of the Steamship Authority upon arrival in Woods Hole, but were obviously very pleasantly surprised. After exploring the charming town center, we settled in for an incredible seafood lunch at The Fishmonger Cafe and watched the drawbridge move up and down, letting boats in and out of the enclosed Eel Pond harbor.

We quickly became acquainted with the pristine beaches of Buzzard’s Bay, habitually returning to Old Silver for most of our expeditions to the coast. The beach had a shallow but sizable swimming area; the water was clear and cool.

Flanked by a private club boasting a forest of bright orange umbrellas and multi-million dollar mansions peaking out from the Falmouth Cliffs, it was an amazing place to watch the surf and bask in the sun.

The weather was beautiful all week, Tuesday was the only day that overcast skies and shattered showers kept us inside. We took the opportunity to explore Falmouth’s Main Street, ducking in and out of its many shops while trying to avoid the raindrops. Luckily, we were sheltered – eating langosta taquitos at Añejo Mexican Bistro – during the worst of the downpour.

We took another trip on the Shining Sea Bikeway, this time we successfully headed north. Eventually, we found ourselves on the shores of the secluded Chapoquoit Beach. After going for a swim, we headed back for some local fare, pulling off of the bikepath to dine on fried seafood.

Much of the rest of our time on Cape Cod was spent outdoors, playing cards, board games, badminton and singing together. Jen had given me a ukulele for my birthday a few weeks prior, so I was busy translating all the tunes I know on guitar to the smaller, four-stringed instrument.

The vacation was capped off with a ceremonial feast. On Friday night, we each sat down to our own cooked and cracked lobster, savory salad, fresh bread, juicy ears of corn, and, of course, a bowl of warm clarified butter. Suffice it to say, we ate well. When we weren’t visiting area restaurants, my mother and girlfriend were constantly whipping up tasty things at the house.

It was sad to leave Cape Cod, but it is always a good feeling to come back home to familiar surroundings – even if we were only 1.5 hours away. Whereas my thoughts might have normally started to turn toward the coming week’s demands, I was fully sated by the relaxing week, and perpetually grateful for the experience.

Now, with the prospect of waking up to an alarm on my horizon, my thoughts have turned back to the office. But the idea of Monday morning isn’t such a harsh reality anymore. Be it a stressful day, or one without conflict, I’ll have these memories to escape to – if only for a fleeting moment.