As with last month, this blog has a holiday-inspired theme. Coming off Thanksgiving weekend and the final days of November, we’re now barreling toward the December holidays. Travel often dominates this season. According to the Transportation Security Administration, the busiest travel days of the year typically fall just before Thanksgiving (Tuesday and Wednesday) and the Sunday after. Each year brings new records, with Christmas travel not far behind in volume.
Amid all this seasonal travel buzz, my youngest child celebrated a milestone: her 20th birthday on November 25th. How did she celebrate? By taking herself on a week-long trip to Japan. Alone. Well, she was not completely alone—she joined a tour group full of strangers. Still, to me, that qualifies as traveling solo.
At 20 years old, the thought of venturing over 6,000 miles from home never would have crossed my mind. Even now, I balk at the idea of traveling 600 miles. Simply put, I’m not a fan of traveling. Cars can feel cramped after a while, trains take too long, and airplanes mean long security lines and too-close-for-comfort seating. None of that appeals to me.
I sometimes wonder if I’m in the minority with my distaste to travel. Everyone around me seems to love it. They’re eager to explore new cities, states, and countries. They relish the sights, the experiences, and the food. But me? I don’t feel I’m missing much by skipping the Eiffel Tower, the Pyramids, or Big Ben. And when it comes to foreign cuisine, many spices and scents don’t agree with my stomach or nose.
I don’t think my reluctance to travel will ever feel like a regret. Reflecting on my life in the years to come, I’m confident I won’t wish I had traveled more. A fulfilled life, for me, doesn’t require crossing state lines or international borders. I’ve lived nearly all my 54 years in St. Louis, Missouri, and I’m perfectly content with that.
That said, I recognize there are exceptions. For instance, if any of my kids were to move away, I’d gladly put aside my discomfort with travel to visit them—and maybe my future grandchildren.
Interestingly, my daughter’s Japan trip prompted me to take a step I hadn’t anticipated: I applied for and received a passport. I considered it my “insurance policy,” just in case I needed to hop on a plane for an emergency while she was abroad. Whether for financial, legal, or personal reasons, I wanted to be prepared to make the trip if necessary. Like most insurance policies, I hoped I wouldn’t need to use it.
Thankfully, the trip went smoothly, and I didn’t need to fly to Japan. But now I have a passport, valid for ten years. Who knows? Maybe my perspective on travel will shift someday, or maybe my family will persuade me to venture farther than I ever imagined. For now, though, I’m perfectly happy staying put, enjoying the familiarity of home, and embracing what some might call a “boring” life in the same city I’ve always called home.
For me, the holidays aren’t about how far you go—they’re about appreciating where you are and the people you’re with.