It might have been a poster in a middle school classroom. Beautiful colors, hills and sky, mountains, gorges, lakes and something that said, “You have to see this place.” And now some 65 plus years later, my daughter Anna, her husband Peter, and I will visit New Zealand, and I will turn 78 on Christmas Day before boarding a plane home.
Often, Anna and I talked about making this trip but somehow never figured out when or how. So when they called me a few months ago to ask permission for Anna to go without me, I laughed and said of course. But then I thought about it and decided to go along. Lucky me. I can breakfast with them in Auckland on December 25th and arrive home in Arizona to have a birthday dinner with Jon on the same day.
Anna and I have been traveling together since she was a baby. One of our first trips, a 3-week tour of New England when she was 9 months old, ended in a mad dash to the airport for the international flight that took the whole dance company plus mom and baby to England. Some of my most contented moments as a working mother were on buses, trains, vans, and planes as Anna and I read story books, colored endlessly on everything from paper cups taken out of the bathroom, to the little notebooks I carried.
Now, she and Peter take me hiking (well they hike, I walk) giving me time to see and experience the world as they do. Since my husband Jon has been ill for so long, I almost cry every time they pick up my suitcase as my body revels in the support of letting others take the weight. Yes to seeing the world, more to being with my most intimate family.
