Why is it that some people travel all the time and others never? Why do some people cross the world and others stay within the confines of their county? Is it a matter of money and time? Is it age?
I do believe that one goes through a transition brought on by age.
In our teens we travel with our parents and sometimes with sports/band teams and friends. We go where ever our parents or coaches take us and dream of independence.
In our twenties, the first found freedom sends us off by ourselves, with our partner or a group of friends. We need little, carry our food in the trunk of the car, go on foot or share rides and rooms to save money. We have much more time than money. Our bodies accept lying in tents and on carpets. We eat from cans and sleep on trains.
In our thirties, we look for rooms with multiple beds to take care of the kids. We don’t go far, since our children don’t travel well. We go to amusement parks and pools. Money is tight and we are too tired to go out.
In our forties, our teenage children refuse to go and when they go, they mope. We try to think of fun things to do with them, because we don’t want to admit that teenagers never have fun with their parents. We can’t afford Europe or Mexico, really not much flying anywhere, so we travel by car until we are mad at each other.
In our fifties, the kids are gone. We have more money and are looking for nice rooms. We avoid camping, our bones can’t take it – we want luxury. Better food, a large bed.
In our sixties, more of the same. We love to visit the kids and stay with them. Budgets have returned with retirement. We travel by motor home and stay a while. Time is precious, but not in the sense of needing it to travel, but because our days seem more numbered.
In our seventies, we travel less. Our trips become shorter and we stay closer to home. We want to be close to medical facilities and a reliable doctor. We like Florida, but we don’t want to get burned and our skin is too wrinkled to show it on the beach. We take walks and look forward to our meals.
In our eighties, the kids visit us. We stay home, unless there is a funeral. Or we are taking our last trip.
What we should do about it:
The moral of the story is that we should travel the farthest and the hardest when we are younger, since we have the most energy and are flexible. But the real moral is that we should strive to enjoy every minute of our travels and realize that each moment is precious and one-of-a-kind.