Vacation as love letter, part 1 (for my #1)

The most fulfilling journeys begin with clear intent. That intent can take any of a number of forms—a question, a curiosity, a wish, a dream, a goal—but its purpose is to set things in motion, and to suggest a meaningful direction. It's okay if your intent evolves as you travel on; in fact, it's almost bound to happen, but you've got to get the wheels rolling on the road before you can steer the car.

Rob and I left town for a vacation October 21st and came home three nights ago. Our intent was to get away for some rest and relaxation, enjoy each other's company, and revisit some beautiful places that were very good for our souls a few years ago. We succeeded, I would say, in each of those goals except for the rest one. We cried wolf for a few weeks in September and October before we managed to tear ourselves away from work and life, but once we finally began to nail down plans and actually packed up our toothbrushes, things fell into their proper places quickly, and our intent sweetened and deepened and expanded, continuing through the whole of our trip. I felt changed before we even climbed into the car, and I feel changed now.

I have love letters inside to write to each day of our time off, to every person and place we adored along the way, but the letter my soul sends first and last and every step in between is the longest and lovingest of all, the one for my good travel mate. Oh, what a lot we learned in just two and a half weeks! I know we came home richer than we left, even if we spent our little travel fund dry. I'm certain we came home better equipped to love and work and be. I absolutely came home more hopeful, determined, and married. And more full of clear intent.

Here's a kiss for you, Rob, and another, and a fond pronouncement that honey, you ARE a trip. A very, very good trip.

Here's a hink pink for you: WET PET.