The idea of a vacation was totally foreign to me till I was in my late twenties. My family were not big travelers. We didn’t go to the beach every summer like many of my friends’ families did. We didn’t go camping or hike or play on the river that was a mere five blocks from our house. My Grandma was only west of the Mississippi a couple of times in her life. The first was to see my Uncle Sonny get his wings as an Air Force pilot. The second was when she went to Minnesota to visit my aunt’s resort on Lake Kabetogama. Two vacations in her life.
We didn’t have the money to have extravagant vacations. We visited my aunt and uncle over near the eastern panhandle of West Virginia for a week every summer. That was as close to a vacation that I ever got until I was married to Hubby #2. Our first real vacation was a road trip, car camping around Colorado. After that, we went to West Virginia several times to visit family and one year we went on a twenty mile backpack trip there.
The first extravagant vacation we had was a trip to Cancun with friends the year before I had Daughter #2. We went to Hawaii once, but it was very difficult to get him away from his practice for very long. We did quick trips to DC, Yellowstone, and Disney. After he and I parted company, I traveled alone whenever I could. I took Daughter #2 on a three week road trip when she turned thirteen and took her to Mexico for her sixteenth birthday.
When Mr. Virgo came along, we had great plans to travel when he retired. We did go on a long road trip for our honeymoon. We went to Utah once, and Yellowstone twice. In the summer of 2011, I took him to West Virginia to meet my family. He wanted to take me to Europe to see all the beautiful places he had been. We were buying a camper for retirement when he died.
Heading out on my own again, this time with my own little camper, I found travel to be my solace…my escape…a panacea for the pain of losing my husband. I traveled a lot in those years following his death. And, I was still on the road when my Uncle Bud called me home to live on the family farm. Even living there seemed like a vacation…a dream vacation luxuriating in the memories of my loving family.
Then, Mr. FixIt came along. Thankfully, he was retired and itching to get out and do things. We’ve already accomplished more travel in the short time we’ve been together than I did in the last thirty years. But, is it really “vacation” when you’re retired? Yes and no. No, because every day is Saturday, to some extent. We aren’t bound by the clock and time is somewhat our own. Yes when you consider all the work our properties entail.
I am so grateful for the opportunities to travel and see new places. I know there may come a time in the future when I may not get to do these things, so I’m making up for lost time. I’m banking memories like a squirrel hiding nuts. Someday, I’ll look back on all this…I’ll read the pages of this blog or my book…and have some wonderful stories to tell.
❤️
“I perceived that there is nothing better for them than to be joyful and to do good as long as they live; also that everyone should eat and drink and take pleasure in all his toil—this is God’s gift to man.”
Ecclesiastes 3:12-13 ESV