Why do You Travel, Really?

Kids have a way of hitting you with the really heavy stuff in such a nonchalant way that it knocks you back on your heels. They can just be eating their Cheerios or lazily playing with their toys, and out of their mouths comes a weighty question that demands pause.

That was scenario recently when my eight year old, never stopping to make eye contact, dreamily asked, “Why do you need to travel so much, mom?”

It was a simple enough question, but I could tell from the tone in his voice and his carefully chosen words that he meant business. It wasn’t a casual question. He was digging deep under the layers of what made his mom and, by extension,himself tick.

We have talked many times about travel in our family-why we do it, what we gain from it, why it is valuable. My kids know these answers as part of the doctrine of their family code. Travel is what we do and, as much as it seems simplistic, travel is what defines us.

But this question, with its weighty word choice was much more spotlighted on me, the mom, the grownup in charge of making choices that direct the path of his little life.

I gulped a little as I thought about his question.

The use of the word need was the first delightful puzzle. It was as if his internal feelers had sensed that this travel thing was more than just an idle pastime. Then, I thought about the word you, as in you (me) specifically. Again his spidey sense had tipped him off that the other moms he knows don’t do it this way.

Wanting to honor his question with a deep, visceral truth, I dug past the trite layers that travel makes you more well-rounded (it does) or that travel is a way to connect with the world (it is).  When it was distilled down to its purest points, I knew the answer to his innocent question.

I travel because it grounds me. Travel is my true North, my pole star.

When my feet are wandering, that is when my soul is at rest. When I encounter the uncertainty of a new situation, that is when I feel the most certain.

In exploring the creation, I feel more connected with my Creator than I have ever felt in any pew in any church. My travel experiences are my worship and the stories are my hymns of praise.

I am a better wife, mother, human because of my travel experiences. Without them, my soul withers and browns at the edges.

In travel, I am whole. I am complete. I am my true self and every journey finds me becoming more of who I am meant to be.

I was satisfied with my truth telling, but savvy enough to know that some truths, however spot-on, are too cumbersome to share in full with children. So I took a different path towards answering his very valid question.

“Do you remember the day we spent at Discovery Cove?” I asked.

I knew he would remember. It was one of his favorite memories and one we talked about often. Never lifting his eyes from his toys, he paused and let the memory wash over him. As he replayed that day in his mind, I remembered, as well. I recalled the unhurried moments of sitting in the sand building sand castles, and the thrill of feeding stingrays, and riding on the back of a dolphin. It was a day of discovery, adventure, and exploration. It was a full-on, life-loving, day.

“Oh, yes. I remember. That was my favorite day, ever. Everything was perfect on that day.”

“Do you remember how you felt on that day?” I prodded a little.

“I felt like everything was just so exciting and that anything was possible.”

I smiled. A perfect answer.

“Well, that’s I how I feel when I travel. And that’s why I need to travel. Because I like to feel excited and that anything is possible. Travel gives me the feeling of being fully alive.”

Only then did he lift his eyes and lock his gaze on mine. With an almost imperceptible squint, he looked deep into my eyes and let the gears of comprehension churn into place. As we looked at each other, he seemed to understand me, not just as his mother, but as a person. The little peak into what made me tick resonated with what mattered to him, as well.

With a knowing smile, and all attention back to his toys, he smiled and said two simple and sage words: “I understand.”