Road Trip: My Husband’s Words

My husband, doing what he wanted to do in Paris. The wine is right under his right hand.

With his permission, I’d like to share something my husband wrote in his journal the other day.  He shared it with me last night, and I’m sharing it with you today.  And yes, my husband keeps a journal.  It’s just like a blog, but a lot less public.

This summer, right after Summer Institute, my wife and I are taking a month-long road trip to Nova Scotia and Prince Edward Island.  I need to remember, especially when we get snarled in Route 1 traffic, when we’re hungry and tired and cranky, that it’s not about getting there, it’s about going there.  And while lounging on a red sand beach in the land of my wife’s childhood idol, Anne of Green Gables, will be a relaxing and much needed rest (a sigh on our trip), much of the excitement and surprise won’t be found on a Prince Edward Island beach, but in the slow slog northward, stopping in little fishing villages, driving the Cabot trail, walking on the alien ocean bed in the Bay of Fundy, eating sweet lobster just off the boat, touring a distillery, taking a picnic lunch of smoked fish and crusty fresh bread to sit by a lighthouse and watch the sea break alongside it. 

He wrote that three weeks ago, back before I started to freak out about this trip.  And do you know what?  He’s right.  He’s always been right.  So what if it is a fifty-three hour round trip drive?  I get to be with him–my husband who actually wants to–how did he put it?–eat smoked fish by a lighthouse.  Gee–when you take it out of context like that it sounds kind of funny!   I  am vowing here and now that he will get to do all of those things he listed–even if I have to smoke that fish myself!

I am finally excited for our trip to begin.

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