Day 1

There's a saying about writers staring down at a blank page.  In fact, I've been told that some famous writers stopped for the day in the middle of a thought, a scene or a paragraph.  The next day wouldn't be so daunting; they could pick up where they left off.
Not so for me. I have 30 days of blank pages staring at me.  It's been a while.

M and I were on a cruise for 10 days in the Baltic Sea.  Alone on vacation for the first time since 2007.  We were liberated from the Camp HAL routine of picking up kids at arbitrary times of day.  We were freed from generic Caribbean ports of call.  We were freed from early seating and painfully early bedtimes.  We were freed from all the restrictions and inconveniences of traveling with kids.
So, here's what we did:  We woke up when breakfast was delivered to our door.  We ate our breakfast, trekked out to immaculate, old Scandinavian cities.  We came home. We showered and dressed.  We ate dinner.  We went to bed. 
As it turns out, we failed to consider a few things:
1.  The sun comes up at 4:30 when you are at the Arctic Circle.
2.  We get tired walking miles and miles around old, immaculate Scandinavian cities
3.  There's really not that much to do on a ship unless you like to shop.
4.  Our ship pulled into ports at unholy early hours, so we had to wake up before 7 anyway.

In essence, our routine was the same as it was with the kids.  The primary difference was we had about half as much crap in our postage sized cabin.  Is this what we were expecting?  Weren't we supposed to be living it up?  Where was the liberation?  The kicking up of heels?  The romantic deck strolls?  The dancing in the wee hours?  Wasn't all this in the brochure?

Thank goodness for Happy Hour.  (You knew this was going somewhere, didn't you?)
Happy Hour is great-- BOGO (buy one, get one) drinks.  If I order something M doesn't really like, I get them both.  Heh heh.
So, there we are at Happy Hour.  In the Crow's Nest Bar, where just months earlier with the kids we had been ordering 2 for 1 Shirley Temples. 
This couple, young,  (especially by cruise standards) {about our age.  I still can categorize ourselves as young on a cruise} maniacally signals us to sit with them.  Apparently, Happy Hour coincides with Trivia.  They need a third and, marginally, a fourth. (It's Happy Hour, and that doesn't lend itself to my finest thinking.  I'm primarily for moral support)

M and I were reluctant to join.  We've had some trivia debacles in the past.  We also have a couple of trophies from the fine Shit Ship Carnival Triumph.  (Unsurprisingly, the trivia competition on Carnival ships is not that steep because it's always Happy Hour on Carnival.  There was even booze served to those poor people wading hip deep in their own waste.)  Trivia gets ugly on cruise ships.  There's always a Cheater.  A Know it All.  A Wanna Be.  An Arguer.  A person who NEVER EVER hears the questions.  A Grader Who Wants to Split Hairs Between Answers like "Mandarin" and "Chinese."  It's all so predictable.  And the stakes are so low.  (Although I now have accumulated a set of matching luggage tags.)

But, here we are.  Child-free.  An hour to go before late seating for dinner.  Double fisting gin and tonics.  (M isn't a fan)  Are these one of the Cruise Trivia Types?  Are they normal?  Will the fight us for the luggage tag?  What if they're INSANE and throw us overboard if we lose?

We sit down to introductions.  For my purposes here, everything is very confusing because we all had the same initials.  So, we'll go with TM and TD (Traveling mom and dad).
TM and TD are instantly, noticeably interesting.  And good at trivia.  And competitive.  The last thing worries me a bit, since I know I'm not bringing much to the trivia table and this could mean we're with the Arguer or the Grader Who Splits Hairs.  We small talk between questions.  (This infuriates Person Who Never Hears The Questions.)  Which is funny.  TM has a great laugh.  It's a little hoarse, but considering how petite she is, it's big and infectious.)  TD has his trivia-game face on.  A harder nut for me to crack.
Then, it happens.  TM reveals something so powerful that I am stunned into silence.  Something so momentous that I realize my world is so small and controlled and narrow.  Something that shames my parenting, and shakes the very foundation of the love I think (?!?) I have for my boys.
THIS IS WHAT SHE SAYS:

She and TD packed up their house in LA, sold their cars, put ALL their stuff in storage or in the trash, they un-enrolled their kids for school last year, and began an around the world trip.

So, let me summarize for you what TM said:  Their family of 4 has been traveling the world in only 4 small suitcases TOTAL.  They have been on 52 commercial airline flights.  They have been on 6 continents.  They have all been Together (yes.  With a capital T) in various apartments and rentals non stop for nearly 12 months. 

Let me tell you what I heard:  TD had only 3 pairs of pants total for an entire year.  TSon had lost 4 teeth on this trip.  TDaughter had applied to high school via a Skype interview in Switzerland.  There are no chicken nuggets in India.  The potties in South America are BYOTP.  Anti-malarials give you nightmares.  They each had only one suitcase.  They had been together in various apartments and rentals non stop for nearly 12 months.

Now, my reaction:  I would kill myself.

Not entirely true, but maybe.  I'd love to see the world on a grand family adventure.  I'm not so sure I'd be up for swimming in the Ganges, but the world is out there, to be explored.  I don't think I could share cars and 15"airplane seats and tents and dinner tables and bedrooms with my family every day for an entire year without a break.  How is this possible?  How can a family be that close?  How bad of a parent AM I?

Fortunately, TM was forthcoming about her trip.  She didn't tell me that every day was rainbows and unicorns. Her children fought and sometimes cried.  She was sometimes overwhelmed.  But, overall, her stories were positive.  She told me some of the nitty gritty (see BYOTP info on South America).  She told me that they were restless in LA.  They needed to DO something.  So, they did it ALL.

At some point during trivia, Travelingson arrived. He told us about their trip, too.  From the point of view of a kid who used to only eat spaghetti and hot dogs. 

I was hooked.  Their stories were compelling.  Their experience singular. For the next 10 days, whenever we could (except Berlin. Damn the late train from Berlin!) we met with the TravelingFamily for trivia.  We adopted Travelingson, in a way.  We got to know them, their adventure, their stories.  And our Alone Vacation became a sort of Family Vacation.  Which was both unexpected and lovely. 

Which brings me back to my blank page.  TM and TD are writers.  They get paid to write.  They looked down at a blank page and decided to leave everything behind and find the world.  The blank page dared them to fill it and they rose to the challenge. 

My blank page dared me to fill it and I retold their story.  It's not daring.  But it's a start.  And it doesn't require me to bring my own TP.