i had a moment last week when i was looking through some old posts, and i came across one that talked about what i most wanted out of life. it was back when i was in the midst of a very unfruitful job search, wasn’t fulfilled with my life, hated all three of my jobs and was trying to make ends meet. it was a very depressing time in my life, and i only recently started talking about how bad it was.
but, what struck me was that the post didn’t talk about how badly i wanted to travel the world. i wrote that i wanted to be able to drink til five am, get up and have a fashionably successful job, live like a rock star, be famous, etc. i’m not sure what i was thinking, because as far as i can tell, i’m no closer to all that crap now than i was five or six years ago.
i’ve had some conversations recently that touched on traveling with kids and how old your children have to be before you can really expect them to understand the historical and cultural significances of traveling in europe, asia or africa. i said, in order for your youngest to understand, i think seven, but make sure the oldest isn’t older than fifteen, otherwise you have a surly teenager on your hands.
but, i maintained, i have always thought i would travel with my children no matter how old they are. with what i’m turning my life into (which, by the way, i am very happy with), i fully expect to be able to take my children around the world with me, immersing them in the same culture and history that i immerse myself and my spouse into; teaching them along the way; letting them learn thousands of years of history, right where that history took place.
someone posted on facebook yesterday about how they wished they had a job which allowed her to travel and make money, but she didn’t want to uproot her kid. i get that side of it, but my dream is that my kids never feel uprooted from somewhere; rather, they feel like they have wings that can take them anywhere.