We are hours away from ending our 3-week family vacation, visiting family and friends on the East Coast.
Getting here was a highly-organized initiative that involved stuffing 5 adult-sized humans and one 11-year-old into the family van with eight duffle bags, two totes of casual/beach/running shoes, two pairs of rollerblades (unused), one set of Perfect Pushups (barely used), the 11-year-old's blankie collection, a couple of pillows, six iPods and two coolers for food and drink.
We set out from South Dakota at 7:15 p.m., Sunday, Aug. 2, and arrived in Westport, CT, about 23 and a half hours later. Tomorrow, we do it all in reverse.
Looking back on the three weeks, I find it amazing that 1) we are all still alive, 2) we are still talking to each other and 3) we had fun most of the time.
This is no small feat, considering that despite swimming in the same genetic pool, we are six people with six definite agendas that, often times, are diametrically opposed.
Sure, we tread on common ground — eating, running and going to the beach — but from there, the potential for discord ramps up and peace-keeping efforts grow a little dicey.
In addition to visiting family, we had the singular pursuits of college tours (son), work & Bruce Springsteen concert (husband), shopping (two teen-age daughters), random play (11-year-old), and laundry (me).
Along the way, the van got a flat, but no dramatic rescue or side of the road tire change. We got lost driving from Boston to Cambridge. The six of us stuffed into a two-bed hotel room for two nights. And, unsupervised and unknowing, the 11-year-old played with a wind-up "Little Pecker" toy in a quirky shop.
True, there were tears and bickering. Mostly, though, there were good memories. And, if that's not enough, we've still got another 24 hours in the van to work things out.
