Oh So Excited: Realising a Dream

 The dreaming began in the Covid lockdowns of 2020. Living in Melbourne meant that for the majority of the next two years, my family and I spent a large proportion of our time confined to our home. It was one of the strictest and longest lockdowns, with limitations on the amount of time one was allowed to stray outside the home each day. Along with time constraints also came restrictions on how far from home one could go. It was in these challenging times that my daughter Kathryn and I would often take our allotted two hour walks together. As we trod the same old, familiar footpaths and gazed appreciatively at the same old familiar landscapes and neighbourhoods, we would often turn our conversation to our favourite topic: If you could go anywhere, where in the world would you most love to go? Our top dream destination was a Greek Island. We both love sea bathing, and the thought of floating endlessly on the clear blue warm waters of the Mediterranean Sea was most alluring. 

Dreaming is one thing, having it come to life is quite another. For to make a dream a reality, it first needs opportunity and resources for it to be considered even possible. For 5 years travelling abroad has been impossible. The years that have passed since those covid lockdown walks have been filled with many challenges and responsibilities. I’ve supported three of my children through the final years of school, completing year 12 and beginning tertiary study. I’ve had a son leave home and return, we’ve bought and moved house. We’ve had one daughter get married. I’ve had many health issues that have reduced my capacity and weighing on top of all this has been deep grief at the passing away of my sister from cancer. There have been many things to keep me present at home. 

I’ve always been one to hold my dreams lightly. Deep down, I trust that my Heavenly Father knows best, and to be truthful, I’ve always been someone who’s found pleasure in simple things; a day trip into country Victoria gives me joy. So it wasn’t until 2 years ago, when my husband and I were doing “The Marriage Course” (something I’ve written about before, and well worth doing for anyone who is married) that one evening when the conversation was centred around hopes and dreams for the future, my husband ventured he’d love to be able to travel with me again. And rather than leave it as a dream, make it a priority if the opportunity arose. So to consider in earnest the possibility of travel once more, and now to be days away from actually doing it, I feel quite humbled and grateful. It still feels like I’m dreaming.

So where am I going? You would naturally conclude Greece, for that was the dream. But I travel with others; Chris, Kathryn and Toby. And while Greece was on the table of possibilities, so was England (in particular London), Scotland and Italy. Realistically, for the time and resources we had, not all were possible. As a foursome, the top two places of importance were London and Italy. Italy, because my children have studied Italian by immersion for 3 years, and so to go to a place they have spent time studying; one full of history, culture, food and a little sea bathing, it was a perfect choice. As for London…my favourite place in the whole world. Since leaving London 12 years ago, I left a piece of my heart behind. It holds for me some of my most cherished, happiest memories. It marks a happy chapter in our families history, one that I’m truely grateful for. So to return after all these years, sharing it with two of our grown children is truely special. The hardest part will be that it will feel too short, and not to share it with our eldest two kids. 

Every time I think of walking the streets of London I have a surge of joy that rises within me.  I can’t remember ever feeling this excited in my whole life; the anticipation of what lies ahead is quite simply thrilling. I’ve replaced the depleting waves of unadulterated grief that battered my body for a long time with waves of pure joy. Words don’t seem to be sufficient to describe this foreign emotional experience. 

There is a danger of course in building up in my mind an idyllic story of what this holiday will be (I’ve travelled abroad enough to have experienced many well laid plans going to pot). I also travel as someone with fibromyalgia. I’m definitely the weakest link when it comes to stamina, strength and resilience. I’m mindful of the physical parameters that I have to work within, therefore I’m fully prepared for days where I might let the young ones go on ahead while I happily park myself in a coffee shop with Florentine views…oh imagine! 

It’s been excessively fun planning for such a trip and thinking quite intentionally about where we will go, and what we spend our precious time and energy on. There has been blessing in this too, as to have something enjoyable and recreational to look forward to. I can’t stress enough how positive this process of planning and preparation has been for me mentally. It’s an unexpected side effect of holiday anticipation. So Europe here I come.