I read as much as I can, too, but every now and then I itch to get out in a more serious way. I want to take a vacation and travel. We go to the beach once or twice a year and that’s great for resting and relaxing, providing more reading time, but it doesn’t satisfy my longing for new places, people, and experiences.
At least every other year we plan a more major vacation with travel to someplace we’ve never been or don’t get to visit often. We almost always meet or include other family members in the trip, which tends to make it more meaningful for all of us.
A few years ago, we flew to Las Vegas, then drove to the north rim of the Grand Canyon, spent a few days there hiking, drove to Bryce Canyon and spent a few days, and then drove over the mountains to Denver. It was a lot—A LOT—of driving, but so worth it. It was the first time I’d seen real desert other than in movies and television shows, (yes, East Coast Girl), my first view of the Rocky Mountains, including an unforgettable ride on Interstate 70 up and over, my first time in Vegas (and likely my last), and hikes in eerie landscapes at Bryce that sparked all sorts of story ideas.
|Me at the Grand Canyon, 2010|
|My husband and son at Stonehenge, 2014|
By the time you’re reading this, I should be home from the latest jaunt, a trip to Italy. My son and his family joined us there for a stay in Rome, followed by Florence, and then Como. Report to follow.