Traveling

For some people, marriage opens up a whole new world of adventure, travel and experience. The experience part is absolutely true. Adventure? Sure, if I looked at it in that way. Travel? Don’t make me laugh.

To my regret, I have never been a world traveler. (I really could have used all those 34 single years much more wisely at times…) But I did get on a plane three or four times a year and go somewhere other than the place I was currently living. The last time I was on a plane, however, was almost exactly five years ago when I flew from Minnesota to Indiana to spend about a week working on wedding plans with my mom and sisters. Then I got married. And haven’t stepped on a plane since.

Yeah…not much adventure here.

So, when work asked if I would come to Pittsburgh for a couple of days (all expenses paid) for a big meeting, I was surprised. Truly, I never thought I would step foot back in Pittsburgh until maybe this summer on a visit with Ed and the kids. Naturally, Ed’s first response was, “What do you mean you get to go back to Pittsburgh before I do?” But he was okay with it (if not a bit envious) and since my mom could watch the kids…I booked flights for myself for the first time in five years.

And then realized I’ve more or less forgotten how to travel.

I don’t own a single liquid item under three ounces. My small suitcase has had a broken wheel for years and I’ve never bothered to replace it because I don’t travel. And I have spent way more time packing than anyone should for a not-quite-48-hour trip. But I’m afraid I’m going to forget something.

But I’m kind of excited. I know airports aren’t much fun. Traveling wedged up against perfect strangers is no one’s idea of a great way to spend several hours. And there’s always the mental stress of passing through security as if it’s a test you’ve studied for for weeks but are pretty sure you’re going to fail. But I miss traveling. It’s as simple as that.

Besides, I can’t deny it. Despite the hours it will take me to get the Pittsburgh and the many hours of work waiting for me when I arrive, it is a “working vacation”. Time to spend some hours by myself with a brilliant mystery. Time to go out to grab a sandwich without two kids to juggle. Time to sleep without one ear cocked towards the baby monitor waiting for Emry or Ethan to stir. It’s going to be nice. And when I get back, it will be even nicer because I’ll have missed them so much I’ll love them even more.