Today is my wedding anniversary. Ten years ago I said my vows in the sweetest little nondenominational chapel in Aspen, Colorado. I married a man who is the most patient, loving, even-keeled guy in the universe. And he likes to travel. A lot.
Q grew up camping in the backwoods, running rivers in Alaska and taking exotic trips to places like the Galapagos Islands and Belize. I grew up taking 12-hour annual summer road trips to Ohio to visit Grandma. Oh, we did take a much-anticipated Big Deal trip to Disney World when I was 10. (By the way, mom, I’m not knocking my childhood at all, just sayin’ that long plane trips were not the norm for us.)
While I did fly overseas (by myself!) for the first time when I was 18, and I did the requisite two weeks of backpacking through Europe before studying abroad for a semester, honestly, I didn’t travel too much in my 20s. That is, until I met Q — ironically enough, when we were both working for the same travel company. Employed by a tour operator, part of our benefits included free trips to worldwide locations. Before we were engaged, we went to Costa Rica and Hawaii, courtesy of our employer. Outside of work Q introduced me to the awesome desert in Moab, Utah, and beaches in Mexico — two places I count among my favorites today.
I feel so lucky I married someone who, when I say, “Let’s go somewhere,” he replies, “It’ll take me 20 minutes to pack.” We’ll sooner spend paychecks on vacations than electronics (to wit, I have no iPhone or oversized living-room TV). Our kids are well schooled in how to behave in the airport security line, since both have flown regularly since they were three months old.
It’s only fitting that we’re not at home on our 10th wedding anniversary, but instead on the road. While I’d hoped to orchestrate a big ol’ anniversary celebration and vow renewal on a beach (or cruise ship), our summer schedule (and lack of finances due to the crummy economy, not to mention other trips in the past year) just didn’t permit it.
For our anniversary, we’re not sipping frothy drinks on white sand, but rather spending the day with a handful of my very best friends from college, their spouses and kids (yep, we number more than 20 in all) at a vacation rental in southern New Hampshire. Exotic: no. Incredible that we actually managed to execute a long weekend with so many of us hailing from all corners of the country: absolutely.
More often it’s much less about where you are, but who you’re with.
Happy anniversary, Q! I look forward to so many more travels with you — no matter where in the world our adventures take us.
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