Passports and Eyerolls

If you’ve been following along, you know this trip has been a long time coming, a dream years in the making, reshaped and negotiated and debated over in countless conversations. You’ve mostly heard the version told from the road: the places, the boys, the wonder, the chaos. What you haven’t heard as much about is the person holding down home base, cheering us on from afar, and living his own version of this experience. A month into our adventures here is a special guest post from our anchor, the one who was brave and generous enough to get left behind and who never gets enough credit.

I keep telling people that I have an unbelievable amount of FOMO. The reality, though, is that I am missing out and I’ve come to terms with that.

Travel like this is, and always has been, Andrea’s dream. That’s not to say I don’t like travel, I really do. Especially when Andrea does all the planning and I just have to show up and enjoy myself. I think I’m pretty good at the enjoying part. But my work is important to me too. Looking back, I think we always knew these two freight trains were eventually going to collide: my love of work and drive to achieve, and Andrea’s need to see the world in a different way. Years of talking, disagreeing, sometimes arguing and now here we are, already a month into their trip.

Despite our very different needs, I still feel connected. Andrea and I talk every day, sometimes twice. I get a steady stream of pictures, usually first thing in the morning since their day is wrapping up when mine starts. I talk with the boys too. Talking with the teen has been great; I really think he’s coming into his own. As a teenager, he answers in full sentences and even asks questions back. I’ll overlook the fact that his first question to me was, “Have you lost any weight yet?” I did tell him my goal was to lose ten pounds before they got back, so I guess it’s fair. Still. Dude.

Conversations with the tween are a completely different experience. When Andrea hands him the phone he sees it as his moment to shine and immediately gets silly. He switches backgrounds nonstop: the beach, the forest, whatever filter he can find, giggling the entire time. He really does have the best giggle. I don’t get much information out of him, but I do know this: all of them are having the time of their lives. And that makes the time apart worth it.

My days without them are very different, yet somehow still familiar. About four or five months ago, when my dad was visiting, I jokingly suggested he move in and help me with the dogs while the family was gone. I remember his immediate laughter. I’m pretty sure Andrea latched onto the idea instantly, knowing that I (social butterfly that I am) would not thrive alone with just the dogs. For those who don’t know, my job is demanding and sometimes requires travel – the business kind. The idea of constantly figuring out dog care was a real source of stress as this trip became real.

It’s also worth noting that my dad has never lived more than ten miles from the neighborhood where he grew up. When he called a few weeks later and asked if I was serious about him moving in for seven months, my answer was immediate: yes.

The Doggos

It’s been amazing – for help with the dogs, for keeping me grounded, and for strengthening a relationship that was already good but is now even better. Also worth mentioning: the dogs follow him everywhere. Total traitors.

Two days after I got back from Singapore, where Andrea and the boys kicked off their journey, I started to figure out what to do with the time and space. I started golf lessons. I’ve worked out more in the past three weeks than I did in the last two years. I’ve baked bread, cooked real meals for me and Dad, and watched a lot of football. Our Bills lost a few weeks ago, so now we’ve fully shifted our attention to the Buffalo Sabres (and they’re actually good again!).

I had a moment of feeling sorry for myself, but I didn’t stay there long. I miss my family, and it’s okay to be sad about that. But they’re gone for a relatively short time, and I’ll be just fine. This is also an opportunity to work on me, to focus on me, which is its own kind of gift that you seldom get when happily married with kids and career.

And still, I miss my family. A month is a long (short) time, and I won’t see them again for a few months. Still, for all of us this is a once-in-a-lifetime experience, and it’s worth that time even apart. I can’t wait for the next story they share, and I can’t wait to retell it to everyone who will listen.