I’ve tried. I’ve really, really tried.
I’ve tried hard to be a homebody, the sort of person who takes joy in the simple pleasures of home and hearth. And the truth is, I’m pretty good at it. I do love to be home. I love a day where I don’t have to get out in Atlanta’s traffic at all, and boy, have I realized quickly how much time is taken up by constantly driving around to places. Time that I can instead use to, perhaps, perfect that vintage sewing pattern I’m working on or master that new form of embroidery that I’m exploring.
But I really, really need to counter that at home time with time out exploring this world. There’s only so much sitting in my sewing room or my living room that I can do before I’m itching to get out just to go somewhere, anywhere, other than my house. I have a feeling that many of us, by this point in the global pandemic thing that we’re all living through, are experiencing the same thing. Now to be honest, my family has done some traveling over the past year. It’s just that it seemed like poor form to write about it, so we did it quietly, perhaps even desperately, like a person grabbing another breath before sinking underwater again. Maybe that sounds like hyperbole from where we all stand now. I assure you that last April, as I accompanied my husband on a driving trip to Wetumpka, Alabama, to pick up airplane parts from a hangar in the middle of nowhere, it was not an exaggeration. Not even a little bit.
Or last October, when we finally got on a plane again for the first time since February of 2020, to go to New Mexico for a week. Now THAT felt like grabbing a breath (Wetumpka didn’t really feed the travel addiction, I have to say. It just felt good to be driving somewhere). Being in the wide open spaces of the high desert near Santa Fe was the ideal place to come up for air for just a moment, and looking back, we somehow timed it perfectly. Case numbers for Covid were still low coming off the summer, and the spike that we now know was going to hit in the winter hadn’t arrived yet. And New Mexico, I have to say, was handling the pandemic brilliantly, or at least as brilliantly as anyone could handle such a terrible thing. They required a negative Covid test before you arrived, and masks were absolutely, 100% mandatory everywhere we went, even outdoors (which we now know wasn’t really necessary, but erring on the side of caution was fine by me, especially last year). We stayed in a little condo with a sliver of a view, and hiked and walked and mountain biked to our heart’s content. The weather was perfect- just a hint of chill in the air in the evening, but still plenty warm enough to dine outdoors.
And speaking of getting on a plane, and coming up for air, and dining outdoors and ALL those wonderful things that breathe life into me, I’m at long, long last planning again to go overseas. I’m actually hoping to go twice fairly close together: Once, in August, I hope to see a dear friend (and former boss) retire after a long, long career in the US Air Force in Germany. And second, in September, to finally, finally make our long awaited, much anticipated creative travel adventure to Arles, France, happen, the one that I wrote about so much back in the days before The Pandemic.
Those happy, naive days when I thought that things like this were so simple!
I know better now: They’re not simple, and they’re not to be taken for granted. But we’re putting it out there to the universe as a possibility, and what a glorious possibility it is!
And in case you’re interested and want to see more about what on earth I’m talking about, I’m attaching a link below to what we have planned. And I believe that this go-round, it’s going to be even better. We’ve learned to let go a little, to trust a little more (because what else are you going to do?) and to relax into and enjoy what’s headed your way.
Which makes for a WAY better travel experience, I promise.
Let’s do this.
Ten Million Miles 