In July 2015, my husband and I are going to start a year of traveling with our daughters. It’s something we’ve always talked about doing. “Wouldn’t it be nice to take some real time to travel” we would say rather vaguely.
In the early summer, I told my husband that it was now or never. The girls would be in the thick of high school in another couple of years. If we didn’t go soon, we wouldn’t be able to go until after they were off on their own, building their own lives. He was dubious, but tentatively agreed.
So I put up a big blank poster in the kitchen. It said “I have always wanted to go to…” I asked everyone to add photos to the poster.
One daughter searched for the perfect photo of Uluru (Ayers Rock) to print and stick up. Another added a photo of hippos to demonstrate her desire to go to Tanzania. Even my skeptical husband got into it and added photos of Easter Island, the Galapagos, and beautiful beaches in the South Pacific (notice the water theme?). Eventually, the poster gave us direction and formed the basis for our year-long itinerary.
Now, the idea is a plan. We’re committed. My husband has given notice at work. I’ve let my partners know that I will only be available for remote work for most of the year. We told our landlord that we’re ending our lease in seven months. In February, we’ll have to notify the school that the girls won’t be back next fall.
We have also started contacting friends and former colleagues along our route. We want to see them, of course. But we are also asking them to connect us with needy and worthy people and projects. We will do community service along the way, as a family. We are lucky, in so many ways. And each of us, girls included, have always given our time and gently used clothes and toys to those less fortunate than us. No reason to stop, just because we won’t be “home”.
Despite this, I can’t help but feel guilty about our trip. It seems self-indulgent. But is it? Really?
We will downsize and simplify our lives. We will do service. We will bond, incredibly, as a family during a year of camping, staying in hostels, getting lost in crowded foreign markets, and eating unfamiliar and unknown foods. The girls will homeschool and learn, first hand, about geography, culture, and history – but also about life and tolerance and diversity and respect for the other. It is going to be the trip of a lifetime for each of us.
So for whom should I feel guilt? Not for my children. Not for myself or my husband. We will each gain from the trip. It is self-indulgent, but that isn’t a bad thing.
It makes you think about why we are here. Who are we serving? What is a successful life?
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