Travelling Home
I love to
travel. Growing up, my grandparents would take me on trips all over the
country. I wish I had been old enough to appreciate visiting places like New
Orleans or the Grand Canyon, but as an eight year old, I was more concerned
with when we were going to hit the pool.
Now as an adult I
still love the adventure of visiting new places. That was a large part of the
appeal of moving to Boston for me – a new city, a new state, new people. And while
I have loved every part of this adventure, my new favorite form of travel is
travelling home.
My grandparents and I
moved from New York to Michigan when I was in high school and I was not a fan.
I didn’t think I would ever enjoy this stupid, Midwestern state. But I grew to
like it, even love it. And now that I’ve moved away, I genuinely miss it at
times. And having never lived more than two hours away from my grandparents, I
genuinely appreciate the time I get to spend with them and my little sister.
This past weekend, I
had the opportunity to fly back and spend time with my family and friends for
the long weekend. And while some may think that a trip back home to the Midwest
is nothing special, I beg to differ. From the moment my plane touched down in
Detroit, I had just about every moment of the trip planned so I could see as
many people as possible in my limited and evanescent time.
One of my best
friend’s from college picked me up from the airport and she had arranged for a
large group of our friends to go out to dinner. It was perfect. We didn’t do
anything too exciting – just dinner at a casual place that I’ve been to a dozen
times. But I was with some of my favorite people in the whole world, just
talking and laughing and catching up.
Saturday, I made my
way back to Grand Rapids to see my grandparents and have dinner with an old
friend. My grandparents are both in their mid-80’s and I’ll be honest,
sometimes their mentality and habits drive me nuts. Both are very strong,
determined individuals who are notorious for a “my way or the highway” mindset.
My grandfather actually once said, “I don’t care if it’s wrong, that’s how I
want to do it so that’s how we’re doing it.” But since I don’t see them very
often, and really only have the chance to talk on the phone with them about
once a week, I really enjoy their quirky ways when I’m around them now.
My grandmother has
recently become very addicted to the TV show Mad Men. So I spent my Saturday
night binge watching season two with her. She thinks Don is quite the stud. And
while this might not be the crazy night out most people want on their vacation,
I couldn’t have been happier just sitting on the couch with her.
For Easter, we drove
back across the state to visit my little sister who couldn’t come home because
she is in the middle of finals week for her senior year of college. Driving
with my grandparents often gives me anxiety. I’m all about getting from point A
to point B in the fastest, most efficient way possible. They are not. They
don’t believe in GPS’s or cruise control and like to take bathroom breaks about
every forty-five minutes. However, instead of becoming annoyed with our day
trip, I found it to be almost comical.
What I’m getting at is
I don’t think it matters where you go or what you do on a vacation. What
matters is who you are with and how you enjoy that time with them. The relaxing
familiarity of being with people who you know and love can’t be beat. And while
I still love planning trips to new places, I look forward most to my trips
home. Vacations are supposed to be relaxing after all. And what better way is
there to relax than with your loved ones in a cozy, familiar place?
A vacation doesn’t
have to be an exotic getaway or an adventure packed weekend. It can just be a
simple weekend, spent watching Mad Men with your grandmother on the couch. I
think this might be the best kind of vacation.
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