When the COVID 19 Pandemic first hit the United States, I knew that my ability to travel might be limited. I had no idea just how limited it would be. One by one, long-planned trips we were to enjoy in the foreseeable future became impossible: Belize, New Zealand, Alaska, New Mexico. I try to adapt; it does no good to lament all the places I wish I were and wonder when it will be possible to travel near and far safely again.
This morning, I started thinking about what besides feeding the cat and cleaning the kitchen I should try to accomplish today and where to do that. There are always things to do: write a draft of next week’s blog, listen to Babbel Spanish on my phone while I putter around, or finish the terrific mystery I am reading (The Searcher by Tana French). All of a sudden it occurred to me: I DO have a choice of travel destinations right here at home:
The “Local Library”—our living room/TV room/kitchen-at-one-end combination where a low table has a selection of books and magazines with excellent long analytical pieces I will get to one of these days.
The “Quiet Room”—a converted bedroom used for writing, photo sorting, sewing and enjoying silence;
The “Spa”—the master bathroom with its overhead shower, moisture-loving plants and giant bathtub;
The “Exclusive Resort”—the master bedroom, where I can close the door, stretch out on the bed and read until I feel guilty about “not doing anything.”
And finally, “The Great Outdoors,” the deck with its hummingbird aerial battles, thriving and languishing plants, and birdsong.
Who needs to travel? In just a few steps and a little imagination, I can be anywhere…until it’s time to feed the cat.