Travel Vertigo

At home briefly between adventures, I woke up one morning with vertigo. Lurching from the bed to the bathroom door, then to the sink, I looked at my haggard reflection and thought, really? I don't have time for this. A long list of at-home chores beckoned: mow the lawn, dead-head the flowers, find the kids something to eat, do ten loads of laundry. It seems that all of the travel had left me both literally and figuratively dizzy.  I called the chiropractor as soon as it opened and squeezed in a visit. Turns out I had "positional vertigo," which he corrected as best he could. In my mind, it's travel vertigo, caused by airplanes and strange beds, foreign pillows and a tinge of stress.

From water polo and beach going in Orange County to surviving Hurricane Ridge under Niagara Falls, we're in "drive" mode. Arriving at Denver International Airport just after noon on Thursday, we went directly to middle school check-in so that Daniel could get his locker location and school ID. As we went from station to station, paying for track, lunch, and school activities, the volunteers kept asking our group if we had more people to check in. "Just the one," we replied, and explained that the whole family had come straight from the plane. Daniel had his crew with him as he set up locker shelves and practiced his new combo.

Despite setbacks, I'm so grateful for the blessings of vacation time and resources. Our summer travel has provided opportunities to dine with my sister and  Aunt Jennifer in Orange County, and then to create beautiful memories with both sets of grandparents and a plenitude of cousins from Ohio to Montana. Family takes precedence over early school registration, meeting the August budget, work schedules and convenience, because our reunions provide opportunity to weave more memories into our life-quilts and find hope for the future in the babies' faces. (Not to mention time to celebrate the miraculous and oh-so-surprising Clavadetscher twins expected in Spring of 2018.)

So I'm grateful, dizzy, tired and pretending blissful ignorance of upcoming deadlines and schedule changes. When the climate shifts and renders southern locations unlivable, my fondest hope is that all the Clavadetscher - Dravenstotts will relocate to a green and cool locale, and spend our days in reunion. Until then, despite vertigo, I'm thankful for the travel.