Rain

Tonight as I write this blog I listen to the rain pitter pat outside my bedroom window. It's a cold night but I can't quite bring myself to close the door all the way as this would block the delicious sound of rain. As I sit in my bed, cuddled in a blanket, my dog cuddled up close I can't help but think of a night almost three years ago. This night was in September and the temperatures were much warmer than now but I was listening to the sound of rain that night too.

Three years ago, September, I was busily packing my bags for a journey I was about to take with my mom to Ireland. This was easily one of the greatest adventures of my life and one I hope to repeat soon. That evening as I listened to the rain, I piled clothes on my bed. I dug through my closet looking for anything I might need for three weeks of travel. Shoes, pants, shirts, shorts, sweaters, socks, underwear, umbrella, rain jacket, jackets, etc. By the time I finished digging my drawers and closet were slightly gutted and my bed was somewhere below a mound of clothing.

There was no way I was going to fit all that I had piled on the bed into the suitcase I had purchased. This suitcase, by the way, was not just any suitcase. This was the Moby Dick of suitcases, it was gargantuan. Standing up, it hit right at my hip level. Laid on its side I could have used it as a stool. Laid flat a foot stool. It was just that big, and yet somehow, I managed to pull out so much clothing I out did what that suitcase could manage to hold.  This was going to be a problem.

I dug into the mound of clothing and began ruthlessly making cuts. There would be time to do laundry at some point, So there went half the jeans, underwear, and socks. Just a weeks worth of each. I only needed two pairs of shoes and my slippers, gone went four other pairs. I was beginning to see progress. Two sets of pajamas, a couple sweaters, two light jackets, it was looking good. Then I hit the shirts. Little by little I managed to get the pile down to a manageable mound that would actually fit in the monstrosity of a suitcase and still have room for the toiletries.

Packing complete I pulled the bag from the bed nearly throwing out my back in the process. It didn't matter though, my bag was packed, I was ready to go, the rain still fell outside. I briefly wondered if it would rain like that in Ireland. In that one blissful moment, I was utterly happy, and completely content.

Travel beginnings

My lifetime is filled with memories, both good and bad, but the highlights of those memories are often the different trips. With my brother and parents as a child, and as I grew older with friends supervised by adults, and eventually trips on my own. Some were vacations, some to visit family, some to see exciting new places, some familiar and comfortable routine. There was always something in common with those trips, those memories; that was a sense of doing or seeing something different from the day-to-day living of school, work, and home.

Growing up, my family wasn't the happiest, my parents didn't like their jobs and were often tired from the day-to-day routine. Something about those trips, however, there was some enjoyment for everyone. Even when there was practically no money to spend there was a certain magic about going on these journeys. 

My earliest memory of travel barely registers as a memory, more a whisper of ghosts from the past. Vague memory of seeing grandma in the motel room. Seeing Mickey Mouse at Disneyland and being terrified of the Pirates of the Caribbean ride. Sometimes I wonder if those memories are really mine or just the repetition of old stories with the family that have become so familiar that they seem to be memories. Nevertheless, whether fabricated memories from repeated stories or real experiences locked away somewhere under a veil of distance those memories are still mine. Still cherished, and still effect how I view vacations today.