Looking across the roof of the houseboat in the darkness, all I could see was a mass of sleeping bags and pillows. Just a minute before I had heard giggling, and had come up top to see what was keeping the children awake. Watching them in silence for a minute, I suddenly saw a small pale arm point upward, and someone whispered, “Did you see that? Another one!” There was a murmur of agreement from a dozen more small voices. The one next to me whispered excitedly, “A shooting star!”
It was irresistible, and I stood still for a minute just to watch the sky myself. You could hardly call this darkness, though the sun had set at least two hours ago. The sky was alive with stars, so close and so clear I could even see their colors. The Milky Way was so condensed with light, I could see why it is called “milky.” It didn’t take long before a meteoric streak of light appeared before my eyes and I let out a small gasp at the same time as the children at my feet.
It was a moment unlike anything we could ever experience at home in the suburbs. My three children and a dozen cousins, snuggled into sleeping bags in their swimming suits (it was useless to get them to wear clothes while on the lake) under the star-lit sky. The responsible mother in me wanted to tell them to close their eyes and go to sleep, but I couldn’t bear to end the enchantment of the moment, or even interrupt it. I carefully crept downstairs again, cherishing the opportunity I’d had to witness a childhood memory in the making.
Tonight, as I sit at my desk reliving memories like this one I wonder what new memories we will create this year. When I look back on my own childhood, I realize that I don’t actually remember much of it. If you ask what I do remember, I’ll nearly always tell you of an experience I had while on vacation with my family.
I suppose the reason for this is that vacations are an intentional step away from the ordinary. All the everyday things we do are mostly forgettable, simply because we do them every day. But family vacations hold a significant place in memory because they are different. Any activity that is unfamiliar or new, has great significance and is much more memorable. In fact, the more different, unfamiliar, and even weird the experience is, the more powerfully and more fondly remembered it will be.
This must be why we go to such great lengths to take our families on vacation. It’s not usually less work, but more, to plan and pack and take a family to an strange place. It can be challenging to keep to routines, to serve foods the kids will actually eat, and to go without the support systems that generally keep family life humming at home. Yet, we do it. We take our families away from everything familiar, and expect to have a marvelous time. And it is precisely the unfamiliar element that makes all that effort so worthwhile.
An ordinary day for my children does not include a Lake Powell houseboat, billions of stars, late bedtimes, or sleeping in swimming suits. But I know that this experience is one that stuck. So as I plan future trips, I want to include enough “different” to make it memorable. It’s ironic, isn’t it? And it is exactly what makes traveling with kids so special. Family travel provides a unique opportunity to bend the rules, challenge the routine, and step outside of yourself, if just for a little while.
I’m looking forward to this year’s travels. I’m intentionally planning as many “unfamiliar” experiences as I think we can handle. It doesn’t even have to be that far from home, it just has to be extraordinary. And while I’m busy making memories for the kids, I’m gathering a few for myself.
*Originally published in Vacation Rental Travels Magazine.
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