The Best Kind of Trip

 

Copyright © 2022

By Ralph F. Couey

We've lived in Honolulu now for about three-and-a-half years, both of us working at jobs that at times test the stamina of that proverbial last nerve.  While we've taken time off now and then, we really haven't taken what one could term a vacation.  A fellow named Earl Wilson called it "what you take when you can no longer take what you've been taking."  Well, that was us.  We were both stressed, and also depressed and sad.  What sparked the idea for this trip was a video that popped up on a social media feed of our oldest granddaughter at age three singing "Away in a Manger" at church.  It was so cute, no shyness, just belting out the carol.  

That girl starts driving soon.

Time was getting away from us.  So, we booked the trip in late February, scoring an incredible deal on first class tickets, something we'd never done before. The date of departure was May 21st, and it seemed like the days crawled past waiting to leave.  But finally we found ourselves at Honolulu International waiting to get on the red-eye.

The trip east was broken into three legs, first one to Phoenix, the second one to Charlotte, the third into Dulles International in the Virginia 'burbs of DC.  We got down to baggage claim, and lo and behold, our bags were the first ones off.  Our grandchildren came running into the terminal and right into our arms., hugs for which we'd ached so much   It was a joyous reunion.

Of course, they had all grown since we saw them last summer.  That's the thing with children.  They're always changing.  and if you turn your back for a seeming instant, all of a sudden they're all grown up.  

The relationship between grandparents and grandkids is, in it's own way, transcendent. In the autumn of our years they become as radiant as the sun, and more precious than gold.  They are so completely full of life and love.  Since even a visit of 16 days flies by too fast, we had to crowd a whole lot of living into that time.  We still found time to spend with each one, coming face-to-face with how much they've grown.  

Diana, the erstwhile carol singer, is now 15.  She is quiet and soft spoken, but her thoughts emerge with so much wisdom for one so young.  Her award-winning violin playing is masterful, but as she told me, she wants to do everything.  This is stated quietly, but in her voice can be heard the steel of ambition.  She is courageous enough to try every dream she might have, and knows that dreams take work for which she seems to have an unending capacity.  She also plays a great piano, does artistic sketches so real they seem to leap off the paper.  She is involved in competitive swimming, and is good at it.  Oh, and she's also a black belt in Tae Kwon Do, bad news for any potential suitors.  If she would ever have time for them.  Yeah, she's busy.

Ian is about as normal a 10-year-old as you could find anywhere in America.  He loves video games, but is heavily involved in both Baseball and Football.  His approach is similar to his Dad's, deeply analytical.  He plays wide receiver, but where his instincts really show is on defense, playing deep safety.  Every move he makes has a purpose and seems to know instinctively when the receiver he is covering is about to make a move.  But the greatest thing is his attitude. As soon as he steps between the lines, his walk becomes a strut, and it is clear that he owns that particular piece of turf and woe betide any who would trespass thereon.  Before one of his baseball games, I asked him about his approach to hitting.  He responded with a detailed explanation and demonstration that would have fit seamlessly into Sports Center.  But he is very affectionate with us, and there is a sensitivity to him that is positively endearing.

Sophie, at a precocious 7 years, seems to have embraced Hakuna Matatta. No moment is more important than now.  She is blissfully unconcerned with the future.  That's for parents to worry about.  She can make fun out of anything she does, and when you ask what she's doing, she responds with a detailed in-depth discussion that explains everything.  She is also taking piano lessons, and we got to see her recital, where she played wonderfully, looking for all the world like she was perfectly at home in front of an audience.  She is cheerful and happy, though can be a bit of a drama queen.  When things aren't exactly right, the whole world - the whole universe is crashing down around her.  But she recovers quickly, like a cork bobbing in the water.  Cute beyond words, she is.

It was a fast-paced life.  The kids were all busy, so we were all busy.  But we still found some time to drive past our old townhome, and I renewed my friendship with the Appalachian Trail.

Spending time with our grandkids is invigorating and fulfilling.  And healing.  When we left Honolulu, I was sad, depressed, frustrated, even a bit angry.  But when you put a few thousand miles between yourself and the sources of your troubles, something wonderful happens.  

Perspective.

If you stand next to a big truck...yeah, it's big.  Get a couple miles away and...it ain't so big anymore.  One I was far enough away from my irritants, I was able to put them in their proper place.  Since we've been back, I've been much calmer and relaxed.  I find that the things that used to wind me up now don't matter that much.  One of those realizations was remembering that there are only a few things over which I have any control.  Everything else I can afford to ignore. Cause it just don't matter.  And the future?  It's (1) unknowable, (2) unpredictable, (3) and promised to no one.

I live more in the moment now, because moments are so priceless.  The last night we were there, we had to say goodbye to the kids before they went to bed, because we were leaving for the airport somewhere around Oh-dark-thirty.  One last time we hugged and spoke and hugged some more.  Yes, tears were shed.  I lived in those moments, and I can still feel their embrace.

The next day we flew back, first to Seattle, then home.  I spent time looking out the window, contemplating the memories we had just made.  It was two weeks that were too short and ended too soon.  But it was a great trip, because I not only found my smile again...

I rediscovered hope.