I was from a family that didn’t really do vacations. There were a few years when we went to Canada to fly to a small lake in the middle of nowhere for a week to catch Northern Pike. The lakes were beautiful and serene. The one we usually flew to was small, and the only cabin on it was the one we used. No running water, no electricity, an outhouse up the hill and a root cellar for a cooler. It was just us and the wildlife. We’d spend our nights talking and playing cards. Our days were spent sitting in a boat waiting for the ugliest fish I’ve ever seen to bite our lures.
The competitive part of me loved it. I wanted to catch the biggest fish. But then I wanted to let it go. I didn’t like to touch fish, didn’t like to smell fish, and certainly didn’t like to eat fish. I preferred swimming. However, the lake was filled with leeches. No swimming. Instead, we’d canoe the lake and explore the surrounding woods. Or I’d sit on the dock and soak up the sun while I drew.
I used to love to draw. I desperately wanted to do art—any kind of art. Maybe because my life was not filled with beauty, I wanted to create it. Drawing, pastels, photography—anything that let me see the world differently. But the older I got, the more trauma I experienced, the less I drew, the less I used my imagination. The less I looked for beauty in the world.
I hated our summer vacations in Canada. I hated the fishing. I hated being stuck with only my family for an entire week, no place to run, no privacy. It was a teen girl’s nightmare.
As I got older, I didn’t take many vacations. In my marriage, there was never enough time, never enough money, never enough opportunity. I used to envy those families who could. It was all I ever wanted—to make memories with my family.
I became a teacher so I would be able to spend summers with them. I hoped we’d have the opportunity to make memories. But that’s about the time my life blew up. Still no vacations. Then my husband passed, and there was even less money and even fewer opportunities.
But then I moved to China. I got a job that sees educators as important members of society—more important than doctors. And they compensate teachers accordingly. Suddenly, I had both money and opportunity. I could create those magical family moments with my girls that I’d always dreamed about.
The first year, I took them to Germany. I surprised them with tickets and told them about it later so they wouldn’t talk me out of it. I was so excited! Angela had to get a passport, Brit had to renew. We made memories. Memories that didn’t include yelling, or fighting, or trauma. We laughed, and I watched my girls connect. In a week in Frankfurt and Munich, we saw churches, castles, Bon Jovi in concert, Paris. We experienced all that I had envied and I vowed we would do it every year. My girls would travel.
We made plans for the next year. We were going to Italy, learn to cook, spend time in Tuscany. I was going to give my girls the experiences I always wanted. But then COVID hit and for three years, I couldn’t leave China.
All my plans went out the window. But I didn’t give up. As soon as I could travel again, I started making plans. Brit was all in, but Angela was now a mom. She had new priorities that didn’t include traipsing around the world. I understood—but I was sad.
It was just going to be me and Brit. I was terrified of that idea. Brit and I weren’t always close. We barely talked. She was always Daddy’s little girl and I didn’t know how to spend time with her without a buffer. I used the distance as an excuse, but the reality was, I was afraid she wouldn’t want to spend time with me. That she would be angry with me for the bad decisions I made—the ones I blamed myself for every day.
So, I had an idea. I’d invite my niece. I’d never spent time with her, but she could be a buffer. She and Brit could hang out and I could sit back and watch. That was always my favorite way to interact. Sit back and watch. Learn how to be social. Learn how to talk to my daughter.
In the end, it was both my sister and her daughter who joined us, and travel became the way we connected. That first year, we went to Romania. Brit wanted to see Dracula’s castle, so she picked our destination. We had an amazing time. We shared space and meals. We talked. For the first time in years, we talked, all of us. We went on tours, we visited castles and shops, museums and cathedrals. We laughed together for the first time since we were kids. I regained a sister.
The following year—last year—we went to London. It wasn’t perfect, but we did it. And we survived the time together. We learned that we didn’t always have to agree. That being older meant being able to compromise and that it was okay to look out for each other. Hard for two very stubborn, very independent women. And maybe even got a little stronger for the experience. We must have, because this year, my niece is coming to China. She’ll arrive on Friday and stay with me for a month.
Two years ago, my sister joined my vacation because her husband wouldn’t let my niece travel with me without her. It’s the best gift my brother-in-law ever gave me: my niece AND my sister. This year, my niece is coming solo and maybe, just maybe, one day it’ll be my sister that I pick up at Pudong.
Travel gave me back a family I thought I’d lost.
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