In my time, I have done lots of traveling, but this time I put a spin on things. This time, when I went home for my annual dose of New England, I brought Maya.
Back in the day I hoisted my rucksack and made my merry way across thousands of miles with scarcely more than a towel. This time, I would have gladly dropped the buck-fifty for the Smarte Carte, except Smarte Cartes are not placed anywhere near where they are needed, which is one inch from the car. So the journey began with my lugging Maya, two suitcases, two carry-ons, a backpack and a car seat across the tundra that was SeaTac. And let me just say you have never lived until you have changed a Pull-Up full of renegade pellets of poop, in an airplane toilet only slightly more roomy than a linen closet.
Luckily our good spirits held, and for the most part we had ourselves a time. Maya, it turns out, is quite the traveler. In the space of three days we hit two sides of the state, two hotels, one fold-out couch, four restaurants, KidSports, and a beach so wind-frigid that I seriously doubted my own sanity for standing on it. She had no complaints.
She also charmed the socks off of Christine, Cynde and Ingrid, now known as Aunty Icky.
As for me, I was just so damned grateful to go home. Yes, it's still home. There's nothing else like western Mass and just being there fills me up. It was like coming into a warm cabin on a frozen day, or any of a number of other corny analogies. In only a few short days I was restored.