On Travel
I'm just sitting out here watching airplanes take off and fly,
Trying to figure out which oneyou might be on.
-Gary Allan, "Watching Airplanes"
One day, many years ago, my dad was driving me to the park. On the way back, he stopped the car outside the airport in our small town. We stood outside the chain link fence that surrounded the airport and watched as an airplane taxied the runway and took off. For me, it was the most amazing thing I had ever seen at such a young age. It became a tradition between us - we would go, park the car, and watch the airplanes take off. I would wonder who was in those big airplanes, and where they were going. On vacation? To see family? To do what businesspeople did, like in the movies?
As I got older, we went less frequently. But when we did go, we would have these amazing conversations about everything and anything. He would ask me where we would go if we were on the airplane. Each time, I chose someplace different: Paris, New York, London. Each time we would discuss what we would do there and what we would see and why we wanted to go there. My father died in 1999, and we never made it to any of the places we discussed.
A couple of days after his death, I decided that I was going to go to all those places - and more. So I got a job, saved up my money and eventually started travelling. First New York. London - check. Paris - check. Slowly but surely, I can cross off more places. It has turned into a passion of mine: packing my bags, getting on an airplane, and going away. Exploring cities and towns, learning about people, taking in the sights. Part of me knows that this is some sort of coping mechanism...I do this and it makes me feel closer to him, like maybe he is seeing all this with me. After dealing with death and grief, some people find comfort in religion, or remembering, or counseling. I find my peace in travel.