I hate the idea of living with regret. And I hate the idea of leaving France, regretting that there is someplace we didnt go… didnt see…. especially if its someplace nearby.
There are lots of places we wanted to go and just didnt get to. Places that arent a quick drive away. Austria. Norway. Prague. Greece. Im pretty pleased, it really isnt that long a list.
Then theres the list of places in France we havent gotten to. Its longer: Provence in summer and for more than a day, Normandy, Brittany, the Loire Valley, the Dordogne. Those are places I wish wed gone. Even though I know it wouldnt be as magical as I imagine, right now Im even wishing Id just put Kaitlyn in the car and gone to Provence with her for the week. I mean, I can get to Provence in just a few hours. A villa.. wine.. olive trees… relaxing. I suppose watching travel shows about the region is probably not a healthy past time right now. I mean, Im watching the show and thinking how lovely it sounds to sit outside at a cafe with a Pastis. I hate Pastis. Yet, here I am, pining away for one. I am kicking myself for not ordering the aoli special at the restaurant in Aix en Provence. I am thinking that I need to cook up a big pot of ratatouille and sit with a glass of wine and a fresh baguette to enjoy it. And, I suppose, maybe I will. It actually is something Ive learned how to make.
I need to start to watch travel shows about places in the United States. To start to crave Chicago deep dish pizza, New Orleans creole, Seattle coffee. To long for long days spent exploring every corner of the Smithsonian.
I guess I have to be honest, I do regret not taking advantage of the chance for more weekend trips. But I also have to admit that Europe likely isnt going anywhere. And in just 11 short years, Kaitlyn will be away at college and then maybe Bill and I can return for a leisurely, grown-up tour of Provence. Or wherever we chose.
Ah, the mixed emotions of a pending conclusion. I feel that way about retiring, too. But as you note, the opportunity for exploring new things and places awaits. And those eleven years somehow will zoom by, and you too will shortly after that realize your child is 43. We all have those tugging thoughts about what we may have missed out on. Some of those things we can still experience. Sometimes it should be cause to recognize all the great things we have experienced.