It's
beginning of spring break, and we're heading south. That's all we know.Our family is greatly anticipating what may be our last road trip for a long, long time. There's a lot of excitement in our house right now as we are shifting into a whole new phase for each of us.
My husband is launching a new business. I am writing a book. Our 17-year-old daughter is preparing for college in Nova Scotia in September. Our 16-year-old daughter is heading to Brazil for a year-long Rotary Exchange in July. Our 14-year-old daughter is playing a sport for first time in her life. Our 13-year-old daughter is considering transferring to an arts magnet school in order to immerse herself in her passion—dance.
This is end of an era. In a few months, we will never have all four of them living at home again. The next year will bring all kinds of changes, and we feel we need to grab this chance to hit road together in our trusty, dusty minivan.
It's time for our favorite kind of vacation—the make-it-up-as-you-go meander through undiscovered (to us, anyway) territory. We'll get up really early, jump in van, and just go. No reservations. No schedule. No destination in mind.
We love this no-goal travel. We learned years ago that happiest times we spend together are those in which we are free to experience each moment as it comes without planning next.
Back in 1998, we decided in one day to pack up kids and take off to India and Nepal for three months. It's not as though we simply quit our jobs and left. That would have been far easier.
We had plenty of responsibilities—we owned two small retail businesses, an import/export company, an old commercial building with a leaky roof, and a house we had just finished remodeling.
We felt restless and ready for adventure, and making choice to go was instantaneous and unanimous.
We sold one business, liquidated another, put third in a coma. We found someone to take care of leaky roof, and another to stay in our house. We yanked kids out of school and within six weeks of making our decision boarded a plane—six excited travelers carrying six small backpacks.
The girls were 7, 8, 10 and 11. People thought we were insane.
The first two months we spent in India visiting former host families my husband had lived with during his own Rotary Exchange when he was 16. The third month we had reserved for Nepal. We planned to fly into Kathmandu and spend four weeks on our own. We had no agenda, no reservations, no contacts. We weren't least bit concerned about it.
