Travel
Despite what can feel like a test of sanity in the marginally functional mayhem of US airports, my recent travels were relatively smooth. One thing I enjoy about planning travel is that magical moment when the open spaces in my calendar appear to be a mandate for engagement with ALL the EVERYTHING. Then, remembering the way this is secretly a circle that leads to NONE OF ANYTHING, I make an attempt to whittle the agenda down until I see at least a modest reflection of grounded reason.
My husband (and fantastic travel companion) used to help with the editing part. I recall him once asking, “on this trip, can we just stay in one place?" “Yes of course" I said, feeling startled by the uncharacteristic pleading in his voice. On that particular summer vacation, determined to meet this perfectly reasonable request, we went to a nice beach in Delaware, and stayed there, in a clean and modest house, with my tween kids and his immediate family, the entire time. There is a certain quality of ease that comes from repetition and moderate levels of stimulus, and while I loved seeing my beloved enjoying just what he wanted, I became a tiny bit peevish about the absence of privacy that went along with sleeping on a pull out in the living room. I know it was just an ordinary sleeper sofa, but I somehow began to experience it as a set piece in a surrealist play about boundaries. This prompted a quick trip to a nearby big box store where we purchased a small red tent. Sleeping outside soothed the looping nature of my stunned disbelief at how invasive it is possible to be without negative intent, and also added an element of adventure. In the end, it was a lovely time in one place, in part because we had an additional fun place to explore, under a big tree in the back yard.
After my partner in adventure travelled to the great beyond, all the stuff of life became mine to sort. The bills, the trash, the decision making, even the hazy view down that road with an intriguing bend that signifies the future, all mine. Solo travel at first was like a beckoning if untested bridge that I shakily thought might be worth crossing, given the direct span between shared adventures of the past and a hopeful shore that gradually, on its own terms, can become rich with new experience.
This most recent trip out west quickly developed a theme, which could best be summed up as “meaningful time with people I love”. The sub theme was “things I really wanted to do but couldn’t whilst trapped in my house alone, avoiding a deadly virus”. My itinerary had a few musts: Visiting my eldest son and walking the land that is his new home in Tenino Washington, returning to my former home of Samish Island for the first time since I moved back to Asheville two years ago, catching up with important friends there and in Seattle, going to Stampede with my dear friend Paul in Calgary. Yee Haw.
Portland, and the long coveted quilt show in Sisters Oregon, sadly did not make the cut.With these restraints in place, the plan seemed reasonable enough.Then, about ten days before flying across the country, I added one more irresistible overnight stop in Port Townsend, because… See what I mean? Stay tuned for more, as I share the highlights of this multifaceted summer extravaganza trip.