Does anyone actually *like* traveling?
“Like” is such a weird word for what I’m talking about, anyway.
Dear Friend,
I have no idea when this note will get to you; I’m traveling, which (maybe ironically) provides very little downtime where there are family members and a baby involved. Luke and I made some location-based and human-based decisions that have had very real consequences.
The location-based decisions were these: I grew up in Portland, went to college in Washington, went from college to New Orleans, and nearly ten years later, moved from New Orleans to Chicago. Luke grew up in Boston, collected family along the East Coast, and moved to New Orleans, where he decided (human-based decision here) to fall in love with me, a person moving to Chicago.
The consequences are these: we have people we love spread out all over the country, and there never seems to be enough time to spend with any of them. This means that Luke and I have only ever taken one (accidental) vacation to a place where we did not have family — three days in Omaha four years ago. When people talk about traveling as being relaxing, I think they’re talking about what we experienced when we were in Omaha: no one to see and nothing to do; just walks to have and food to eat and sleep to catch up on. And that does sound nice. It does sound relaxing.
But a trip to Portland (which is what we just took) is always a lovely challenge. I don’t usually tell many people I’m headed out there, because I know I’ll already feel overwhelmed trying to see any catch up with my family. I tend to also reach out to Jessica and Ben M, whom I’ve been close with since high school. Then I spend the rest of my time with my parents, and with my sister and her family. This time, I put together a Google Doc with a loose plan of what we would do and who would see and how and when, and asked people to add to it if they wanted to.
This ended up being good for me; it made the trip feel predictable, and created natural space for rest between the loose activities.
Everything was going well until T got sick. Then I was confused. I wasn’t sure if we should cancel anything, or cancel everything, or what. I wasn’t sure what would make people most disappointed, or let most people down. She tested negative for COVID, and her cousins were getting over a cold that it seemed like she had gotten; she didn’t have a fever, but she was so congested and more uncomfortable than we’re used to seeing her.
With a visit like this one, everyone wants everyone to be happy. We all love each other, and it’s rare that we get to see or touch or hold one another, because travel is expensive and environmentally irresponsible and immune system-threatening.
This kind of trip is just stacks and stacks of impossible calculations: taking stock of what you need, what others need, what you’re willing to share about your own needs, and what others are willing to share about theirs. Sometimes it’s about putting contradictory needs and wants against each other and making hard decisions about whose are more important. (Baby T’s need to sleep vs. her mom’s desire to have coffee with her high school friend, for example.) There was no world where this trip could have possibly been relaxing, because the calculations were nonstop. Even making the decision to sleep for a whole day in or near a hammock is full of baggage: who are we blowing off by deciding to be in this hammock? Is this the “right” decision for everyone? For most people? For anyone? Also, who’s supplying the hammock?
And yet, the trip was great. Relaxing, no. But emotionally restorative, yes. Love is all about consenting to a lifetime of infinite impossible math problems like this trip; it’s all about sacrificing time, comfort, certainty. You give everything you have away: your money, your attention, your energy, all of it. And the only thing you get in exchange is a loving connection. I don’t need to tell you that it’s abundantly worth it.
My sister Alexis is always full of wisdom, and she accurately named to me that I mine a lot of our conversations for content (I try to credit her, but I may not always succeed). I’m about to do it again. When T got sick, I felt guilty for not being able to hang out as much as I wanted to, and we had this text conversation:
At the crux of the conversation is the trick to all of this: whenever you can, try to remember to be present. The hard parts don’t last forever, but when you’re going through them with the people you love, it’s rare. We will never be this young again, our babies won’t be babies for very long, the summer is shorter than it seems like it will be. Rather than thinking about how things could be better, consider how things could be enough.
Ultimately, it’s a beautiful problem to have: to love people so much that you want to share valuable time with them. No experience will ever check every single box, and someone will probably be disappointed by how things turn out. (The someone might be you! Disappointment is OK.) But the deficit only exists because you have made the human decision to risk loving. That’s an enormous accomplishment. It’s sort of what life is all about, in the end.
By the way, I am thinking about three other text conversations utterly unrelated to this one:
This from reader Rebs, who also recommended the app Swim Guide, which delivers information about water quality for people who want to swim in and love and respect natural bodies of water.
This from my friend Erin, who told me this in response to my article about the celebrity Sesame Street performances.
This from my girlfriend Kat. I hope that you’ll take this one with you.
I’m not making a check list this week because on Sunday night my daughter’s nose was so filled with snot and she was so miserable that I sucked it out with my own mouth (since I didn’t bring our Nose Frida, and I couldn’t easily find one), and so yeah, I have a sore throat. I also keep testing negative for COVID, but am bummed to have this cold, and am taking probably too much DayQuil, which has made me VERY tired.
Tell me about your trips. I want to know where you’re going and why. Or where you’re not going, or who’s coming to you, or how travel has changed since the pandemic started. Travel is very much on my mind, and I want to know what you think about it.
Love,
Sophie
Parenting Paragraph
Baby language is wild. I feel basically confident that T is saying “Dada” and “Mama” and understanding what those words mean, although she is not doing this with absolute consistency, so it can’t be proven. Something she DOES do with an amount of consistency is … I’m trying to figure out how to describe this … OK. Purse your lips and take out your index finger. Now move your index finger over your mouth while you make a low moaning noise. Luke just described it as a “Looney Toons gargle on the lips.” Anyway, that. If you do that at her, she will usually do that back at you, and it’s about the cutest thing of her life so far. We are saying that this gargle sound was her first word, although I wonder what she thinks it means. It is basically the same as clapping. The idea that clapping is language is pretty profound, I think. She talks to objects (little bottles of lotion, hairbrushes), and to other babies and to adults. She talks constantly, but none of her words are English words. It’s incredible to see her puzzling it all out. (No decisions have been made in terms of the helmet, btw; our insurance doesn’t cover it, is the latest update.)
This week in Sophie
I neglected to link to this article last week, from District Fray, about polyamory again. This time it is about how I wish my relationship was on TV already.
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This is such a beautiful post not just writing-wise but it's just lovely to see we the photos.
Ha ha. The way people talk about where they have been seems that they do. But maybe it is more fun to "say" they went. However, life is a trip, so we better like to travel.