“Do you think we will travel when we retire?” my wife asked.
I had a long packing list in front of me, and I was meticulously going down it … machete, pocket knife, backup pocket knife, formal pocket knife, pocket knife for casual outing. You know, one that says, “Hey, I don’t want to mug you, but … like … I could.”
“Travel when we retire?” I said. “Sure. I hope so … a lot!”
I got the feeling maybe she was thinking the opposite. Probably because of the whole pocket knife thing. And when I asked, “Can you fit some of these knives in your suitcase?”
Plus, the packing. In general, everything about the packing.
We were heading to North Carolina. A little house outside of Asheville. A few nights there amongst the trees and the streams and the chilly weather. A fall getaway. We took my daughter and the dog, then meandered along the Blue Ridge Parkway. We strolled the trails and sat out on the house’s upstairs porch, watching the sun rise above the mountains. It turned the whole land shades of orange and brown and yellow. Like all the trees had caught on fire. I thought sunrises above the Atlantic Ocean were special. But mountains as a backdrop? In the cool, dewy North Carolina air? It’s my new favorite.
I love to travel. And maybe as importantly, I love planning to travel. It’s as much about getting there as it is being there, and I truly embrace that part of the journey. Especially when it comes to packing.
I like to pack!
But I think it exhausts my wife a bit. Because it can be a lot of work. Not packing … me! Or us, I should say.
“I don’t think other people take trips with this much stuff,” she said. (I think I was loading some wall art or a hot water heater or maybe a headboard into the car.) “I mean, they just put a few things in a bag and go.” There was a mix of horror and admiration in her voice.
Longing, even.
My wife is a packer, too. She dreads the work and effort that goes into it – how exhausting it can be. But she wants her own pillow and blanket and all the other things she stuffs into her suitcase that may, or likely may not, ever be needed. Like a carrot peeler! Don’t forgot the carrot peeler.
It separates us from other people.
I think travelers probably fall into one of two categories: 1) Those who “pack” like they’re moving. Pack like the apocalypse has arrived and they want to be ready to fight the zombies … with a carrot peeler. Pack like it is part of the adventure or some spiritual transcendence to a new realm. And … 2) People who “stuff” some stuff into a bag and go.
(These are also the people who leave the hatch of their car open and most of their “stuff” tumbles out. “Hooray!” they think. “Less to carry into the cabin.”)
I don’t understand these people. My brother kind of falls a bit into that category. I remember once we were going somewhere. Just a day trip. But you bring stuff. You ALWAYS bring stuff. And there was something he didn’t bring. Should have brought, but didn’t it because it wouldn’t fit. It wouldn’t fit because there was a model train he was building – about the size of a lawnmower – that was stuffed into the back of his vehicle. What he left behind was like food or his child or something kind of important. But he left it behind because of the train.
“Why didn’t you just take the train out?” I asked.
He looked at me like I was an idiot. “Because it’s heavy!” he said.
See? That is not proper packing!
He’s the type of person who “stuffs” stuff into a bag and makes do. I know this because sometimes when he and his son go kayaking with my daughter and me, he apologetically tells me, “Hey, it’s alright if you don’t want to get too close to us. We kind of forgot to brush our teeth this morning.”
“You what?!? Don’t you carry extra toothbrushes?”
“No,” came the answer, “… because there’s a model train back there.”
I don’t “stuff” stuff.
I pack. And plan my packing. And sometimes dream about packing. I don’t think that’s weird. You’re weird! You should brush your teeth more!
I LIKE to pack. I LIKE that feeling I get when I realize there is no way it’s all going to fit. And I panic a little. And then, as if awakening to a great revelation, I turn a cooler 90 degrees counter- clockwise (always counter-clockwise!) and magically everything clicks into place. I can still fit an elephant in there. Or more pocket knives!
Sometimes I do wish I just “stuffed” stuff. It would be easier for sure. Less stressful. Take less time. My wife might actually speak to me for the first day or two.
But I don’t know that it would be the same. That it would be as much fun. I certainly wouldn’t be able to spiritually ascend to a new realm, and that’s part of the journey.
Do I think we will travel more when we retire? Oh, heck yes. And I am definitely going to get a special, leather-bound suitcase to hold all my pocket knives.