Rambling on about day trips, old dreams, train stations, and finding wonder close to home…

Travel advice has been feeling a little out of reach for me lately. You know the kind I mean: “Book the flight,” “Take the trip,” “Go somewhere you’ve never been.” Well, honey, some of us are looking at the price of airfare and wondering whether the pilot is planning to serve dinner or ask us to help pay for the fuel.

Still, traveling has always been part of my heart. In my younger days, my family took vacations, and for a while we went through a motorhome-and-camping phase. I loved every minute of it. There was something wonderful about loading up, leaving the familiar behind, and seeing what waited around the next bend.

I have traveled across the United States, from the Ozark Mountains to New York City and west to Colorado, where the mountains were absolutely breathtaking. I have followed the Southern coast down to Mexico, and when I was sixteen, I traveled with my parents to the southernmost tip of the country on a cruise. Those journeys gave me memories that still live in me, even when my suitcase is sitting quietly in the closet.

These days, my traveling comes in spurts. It is usually local, or perhaps a couple of hours from home. I visit state parks and historical sites. I find a beach or a new place and sit long enough to watch the sunset. And, honestly, I find a great deal of satisfaction and happiness in that. Sometimes the grand adventure is not across an ocean. Sometimes it is a scenic overlook, a quiet road, or a patch of sunlight falling through the trees.

Some of us never leave the county where we were born, while others cannot keep their feet planted in one place for long. Neither way is wrong. We all have our own measure of distance, and our own definition of what it means to go somewhere.

Before my husband passed away, we had a new dream… we were going to buy a motorhome and ramble around the country. We would have taken our time, wandered down back roads, and stopped wherever the scenery looked promising. But before we could make that dream come true, his time came. That is a sentence I still have trouble writing, even after all these years.

Sometimes I wish I had bought that motorhome anyway. I wish I had taken the chance, even if the timing was not perfect and the budget was not generous. Now, with the state of the economy and the cost of nearly everything, that dream feels priced beyond my reach. Traveling anywhere substantial can seem like a luxury reserved for people whose bank accounts do not flinch at the word “reservation.”

But it is what it is. And what it is, thankfully, is not nothing.

I am happy with my day trips and short excursions because they take me to places where I can see some of God’s most beautiful creations in nature. I may not be crossing continents, but I am still discovering. I am still breathing fresh air, noticing the sky, and allowing a new view to rearrange something inside me.

Of course, I still dream. I dream of a train station waiting for passengers to arrive, each person carrying a little hope and perhaps an overpacked bag. I dream of traveling by rail, with a window seat for viewing, a porter to help me aboard, a dining car, and fellow passengers who are interested in the journey… not just the destination.

There are not nearly enough train routes in this country that are both affordable and reachable. I have discovered that I can take a train to Miami, and I can get to Chicago as well. I am looking into Chicago because I would love to visit the Obama Presidential Center, and I have never traveled that far north. I would also love to ride a train to Vermont or Maine to see the changing leaves and the snow, and out west, Washington and Oregon call to me.

Across the water, I would love to see Ireland, Canada, and England. I have flown a few times, but I cannot say I was impressed by the cramped seats and claustrophobic feeling that comes with paying a small fortune to fold yourself into a metal tube. I have seen pictures of airplanes with tiny private cubicles that look almost like little rooms, and I think I could manage that arrangement. Give me a window, a bit of legroom, and the assurance that my knees will survive the flight, and I might be persuaded.

My travel advice may not be the sort you find in a glossy magazine. I cannot tell you where to find the cheapest luxury resort or how to turn a weekend in Europe into a bargain. But I can tell you this… Go where your heart and soul feel drawn. See what is important to you. Do not let someone else’s idea of an adventure make you feel small about your own.

Wouldn’t it be nice if travel were a state-sponsored event, something that came as a natural part of life instead of a financial mountain to climb? Imagine being handed a ticket simply because you had lived long enough, worked hard enough, or needed to see something beautiful. I would gladly accept mine.

For now, I am planning an outing to Okefenokee State Park this weekend. The weather down here is lovely, with daytime temperatures in the 60s and 70s right now. The mosquitoes are fierce, my travel tip for outdoors is bug spray. I find great peace in spending time in the sun. My travel tip is breathing in fresh air, listening to the sounds of nature, and going somewhere just because my spirit needed to move. PRICELESS.

That is my kind of traveling… not always far, not always fancy, but certainly affordable. It is real. It is enough. And sometimes, the place your heart longs to visit is closer than you ever thought to look…