Our family was on a road trip to a wonderful little place up state New York, a vacation we’d been looking forward to for some time and we just couldn’t wait to get there.
Now road trips these days with portable DVD players, vans with actual legroom and air-conditioning are far from my childhood memories; sweaty legs sticking to vinyl seats, wet towels hanging over windows and always having one brother’s knee and the other brother’s elbow in “my” space. However, for some reason the universal cry of thirst, hunger and “Are we there yet?” still echoes across the generations. And regardless of the extra space, (and I suspect they could even be in separate cars) someone is always touching someone.
Perhaps you may live by the golden rule “Love one another”, but in our family, it’s “Keep your hands to yourself.”
So, there we were coasting along some backroad when it hit me. I’m so glad I spotted it as it really could have passed me by as quickly as the cornfields. It was silent. It was ordinary. It was simple. All three children and husband were reading quietly. But for some reason I just happened to notice that I was completely and utterly happy.
Right there, in Ohio, on some old road I my never travel again. Who would’ve thought? How weird was that? I wasn’t doing the usual happy-inducing activities such as a enjoying a frozen margarita with the locals in a little Mexican village, nor having a good bowel movement, or even indulging in an afternoon nana-nap (yes, I’m a simple girl)….nope, I was just driving. Endlessly driving.
I sat there staring at the straight and endless road in front of me, knowing with absolute certainty that I did not want to be doing anything else with anybody else. And with complete clarity right there (somewhere) I knew that our vacation, as with life, was all about the journey. I didn’t have to wait to get there. There was already here.