Fuelled by the stuff that makes dreams seem so much more attainable (beer), the decision to travel was casually agreed upon by my husband, who I’m not sure at the time thought he was doing anything but appeasing yet another of my grand life plans. With only mild concern he noted my seriousness when within the week I had posted a world map over the bed, made an appointment with our local VW friend to help us in the purchase of a new bus, and subscribed to over a dozen family travel blogs.
Though I’m not sure that I would necessarily classify it as a bad thing, I’m sure it’s something that drives my husband to the brink: when I decide to like something, I don’t just like it a little bit. I call it enthusiasm; I think he calls it maddening. I don’t want to settle for the ‘what ifs’ and the ‘we shoulds’. We want to travel, we want our daughter to see the world, and we know that we can spend extended periods of time together in a small space without filing for divorce within in the first month. I’m fairly confident that we could never be contestants on The Amazing Race, but I think that if you factor in some down time(beer), and some cut-throat cribbage tournaments to get out the aggression we should be fine on the road. As some of Henley’s new vocabulary can attest, kids are sponges. I want her to soak in the world, live without so much ‘stuff’, and I think we can learn from the way she will see and interpret the cultures and landscapes we visit. I want to make these memories with our family, and I’m pretty sure that I may be the only person in existence that could still find a stranded VW van on the side of the road romantic.