I once flew to southern California for a week's vacation outfitted with nothing more than an overnight bag. Back then, I knew how to travel light. Not so much, anymore.
Today, hubby and I headed for the coast to take a week-long cruise with a trunk-load of luggage to rival Cleopatra's on her barge down the Nile. Two days of whirlwind packing prefaced our departure, and that included careful consideration as to what pieces I could combine to eliminate others. Two huge pullmans, one overnight, and two garment bags later we were loaded and headed out of town. Oh, and don't forget the carry-on tote I schlep just for jewelry, passports, and all our geezer meds.
Now I ask you, when did I morph into this up-tight traveler who has to drag half her life along on the journey? It kind of bugs me, this dependence I've developed to "stuff." I can rationalize and justify just about everything I've packed. But really, why do I "need" it? Will someone point and snicker if my shoes don't match my skirt for dinner? And if they do, why should I care? I'm not going to see these people again, anyway!
Yes it's downright annoying--my compulsion to drag all this excess baggage with me. My fragile little ego feeds on my identification with all that excess cargo I cannot leave behind. That's not who I am!
I am the girl who flew to Los Angeles with two changes of clothing, my toothbrush, and a bathing suit and had a ball--because she packed her sense of adventure.
Next trip, I vow to do better. I will get by on two sets of shoes. I will be satisfied with one formal outfit. I will rent snorkeling equipment at my destination. But, I will pack my sense of wonder, my patience, excitement, and spontaneity.
Did I mention that one hour out of town I remembered the "St. Thomas" straw hat I take on every trip?
"There are tons of places at the piers to buy hats," hubby scoffed.
Best not to mention that I also neglected to bring our SoCal road atlas. Hope we don't get lost.
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