Travel is

Travel is like a giant mental scrapbook - a collage of picture postcards amassed during a lifetime of travel.



There are oh-so-many.



Consider an anniversary cruise we took with all our kids and grandkids, (at the time we numbered 14, another daughter-in-law and three more grandsons appeared in the last dozen years.) We had multiple cabins in a row, but Carnival obliged me and gave us a cabin at the end of the hall. It was fine until we let the kids know our cabin number, then we had an absolute parade of children of all ages, seemingly all the time, but it was fun. It was a wonderful weekend and one of the many snapshots I will always treasure.



More recently we rented a home in the Cotswolds and our oldest son, his wife and three sons joined us. We were settled into an old stone house in Chipping Camden and each morning everyone had a task.



I went to the fruit store (green grocer's, I believe.) My son bought a couple of daily papers and cheeses, our oldest grandson selected bread and rolls from the bakery, and the younger two helped out. My husband made coffee (because he was the only one who knew how to handle the French Press) and my daughter-in-law did cleanup.



Each day we set out in our van to visit another spot in the area. We saw MACBETH at the Royal Shakespeare Theater in Stratford, visited one of Churchill's homes and, when we returned to London did many of the sightseeing things we'd been doing for 30 years -- this time with the kids.



One day we opted to go our separate ways and meet in the evening for the theater. My husband and I needed a little alone time.



After walking for a while we suddenly, on Regent Street, heard voices we knew quite well yelling "grandma," "grandpa." Yes - in this city of millions - our family had found us and although we'd had breakfast together some six hours earlier, loved having another lunch as a group.



Those are some of the pictures in my scrapbook that I treasure. And there are many more souvenirs of a lifetime of travel.