The Girls Are Back

It's great having Rachel and Anna back home. We've missed them so much.

And, in a couple of weeks, we'll be on our next RV trip to Fort Wilderness to celebrate Independence Day. We are all anxious to begin traveling in our RV again.

I found this article in Chicken Soup for the Soul; Celebrating Mothers and Daughters that I wanted to share:

Ten Thousand Miles in Blue Streak

As a child raised by a single mother, my experience in the 1970s was different from that of my friends. I was a latchkey kid with more responsibilities than other children my age. But Mom worked hard, saved every penny, and made a comfortable life for us--one that included her passion for travel. She purchased a 1973 Midas motor home and named it "Blue Streak."
During a ten-year span, we traveled forty-seven states. In my late teens, we pulled a horse trailer and competed in shows throughout Wisconsin and as far away as Ohio, Texas, and even Washington. I'll never forget the summer after I got my driver's license. We crossed the Continental Divide with me sitting in the driver's seat. I wondered how many sixteen-year-olds had ever done that.
Recently Mom was reminiscing about our earliest travels. "Remember when we visited Graceland and toured Elvis's home?" she asked. "And, wasn't it great overlooking Niagara Falls?" My blank response frustrated her--the only destinations I remembered before age ten were those she kept in photo scrapbooks. "I took you to all those places and you don't remember a thing, " she complained. I felt guilty--she was right. Then I contemplated my memory.
"No, Mom, I don't remember all the places we went," I said. "I don't recall this statue, or that museum, or even the lobster we ate in Maine. "What I do remember, though, is that you were always there. It was just you and me for thousands of miles. I remember the orange shag carpet and the faded yellow curtains. I remember the RV water that smelled and the oven that didn't work because mice made a nest in the insulation. I remember reading the map for you and you figuring out how many miles before the next rest stop.
"And, I remember how you drove late into the night, while I fell asleep in the bunk above. You sang songs that started with each letter of the alphabet: 'Are You Lonesome Tonight,' 'Band of Gold,' 'Chances Are,' ' Don't be Cruel'....
"I remember listening to your 'should have been famous' voice. That was my lullaby."
Now, over thirty years after my first trip with my mom, I've started traveling with my own daughter. I ask her to pick the destination, but she doesn't seem to care where we go. "I just want us to go together," she says.
Where you're going doesn't matter as much as who's with you on the journey.
~~Kelly Curtis