There is something inherently mindful about being somewhere unfamiliar. You don’t know exactly where everything is. If you’re far from home, you may notice the plants are structured differently and pay attention to birds you don’t recognize. You may find yourself looking at buildings, food, sounds, and landscapes that your brain doesn’t normally encounter.

Novelty gets our attention.

That’s one of the reasons travel can be so good for us. New experiences can boost our mood, disrupt our routines, and leave us with memories that stick.

And I have a fun exercise I like to do when I travel, called “I can do this at home.” (I’m workshopping the name.)

The idea is straightforward: When I find something I enjoy on vacation, I ask myself whether I can recreate some version of it in my everyday life.

It won’t work for everything, of course. A sandbox will not quite be the beach. But sometimes the things that make a vacation feel special are surprisingly portable.

On my most recent vacation to Mexico, I discovered soda tea.

As the name suggests, it’s essentially brewed and cooled black or green tea combined with carbonated water. As someone who always has a cup of tea in hand, I was intrigued when I saw it on the menu.

It did not disappoint, and I’ve incorporated it into my life at home.

It’s hot in Tennessee right now, and a cold, fizzy soda tea has become a welcome addition to my hydration routine. But it is more than that. Every time I make one, it gives me a tiny reminder of a place I enjoyed. It makes my life happier.

And why stop there?

What if we stopped thinking about vacation as an escape from our lives and started thinking about it as information about how we want our lives to feel?

There is a concept in Solution-Focused Brief Therapy (SFBT) called the miracle question, developed by therapists Steve de Shazer and Insoo Kim Berg. The question invites a person to imagine that, while they were sleeping, a miracle happened and the problems that brought them to therapy were resolved.

When they wake up, how would they know?

What would first indicate that things are different?

What would they notice about themselves, their relationships, their routines, or their day?

It is a powerful question because when we’re struggling, “I just want things to be better” can feel like the only goal we can articulate. But better is difficult to work toward without specificity.

While describing what we want to feel differently, we orient our brains toward the solutions we seek and prime them to see opportunities that will help us progress toward those outcomes.

In a similar vein, I offer my “I can do this at home” exercise as one that might elevate your week instead of white-knuckling to the end of it.

You can start by asking:

What would make my life more like vacation?

Maybe the answer is more novelty. Take a different route home. Visit a new park. Try a restaurant you’ve never been to. Pay attention to the birds.

Maybe it’s rest. Maybe on vacation you finally give yourself permission to sit outside without accomplishing anything. What would happen if you practiced a little of that at home?

Maybe it’s treating yourself differently. A longer shower. Lotion before bed. Drinking something you genuinely enjoy. Putting your phone down while you drink your morning coffee. Going to bed a little earlier. Acknowledging that you, your body, and your mind inherently deserve care.

Or maybe what you loved about vacation was how little control you had.

When we travel, we are sometimes forced to accept that we don’t know exactly what will happen next. We have to follow someone else’s schedule. We miss a turn, and then the restaurant is unexpectedly closed. The weather changes our plans. And we have to shrug and manage.

Our everyday lives hold the expectation that we should be able to control everything: our productivity, our children’s experiences, our relationships, our careers, our futures.

But we can’t, not entirely.

And perhaps part of what makes vacation restorative is that we’re temporarily released from the illusion that we can.

Maybe peace at home might come from practicing more acceptance of that reality.

So before you start counting down to your next vacation, think about the last time you felt genuinely peaceful, joyful, curious, or rested. Remember the context, the surroundings, and the people there. Then ask yourself:

What would make my everyday life a little more like that?

You can’t bring the ocean, or the mountains, or Monument Valley home.

But maybe you can bring home one small thing.

A ritual.

A little novelty.

A little rest.

Or a fizzy, tea-based drink.

Sometimes the best vacation souvenir is an idea about how to live when you get home.