By: Icy Frantz
Jet Plane
I woke up this morning humming the tune, “I’m Leaving on a Jet Plane” and it wasn’t hard to figure out why John Denver’s 1966 song had found its way into my subconscious. Wouldn’t it be great to take a little break? “All my bags are packed. I’m ready to go.” A change of scenery would do me wonders. Virtual Zoom backgrounds and scenic routes offered on my stationary bike screen are nice, but I could really use some time away.
Usually, by early March, I am ready to escape the cold, gray days of winter. I want to throw off the boots and down coat and put on my white jeans and sunglasses. I am ready to trade in the steaming soup on the stovetop for summer salads and fresh fruit. I want to roll down the windows in my car and pop open the sunroof. My body, deficient of vitamin D and pasty white, longs for the warmth of the sun. I agree with John Denver, “Sunshine on my shoulders makes me happy.”
So here we are, a few days shy of May 1st and, like many, I have been home since early March. I am dreaming of vacations past and crafting itineraries of future escapes.
I reminisce about Christmas 2018, when my family traveled to Africa, excitedly exploring Cape Town and Botswana. A few years earlier, we visited Paris and Normandy and stood on Omaha Beach and walked solemnly through the American Cemetery and Memorial. We love to ski, and there have been many Vermont vacations wishing away the ice and rock, praying for powder. Growing up, I spent school breaks in Florida, visiting grandparents, now gone, in the age before jetways took passengers off the plane and directly into the airport but rather down makeshift stairs and right into the hot air of the southern state.
While the details of each trip are lost on me, the feelings remain. Time away always gives me perspective, renewed energy, and a heightened sense of appreciation for life. Some who have studied the effects of taking vacation say that time away helps relieve stress, prevents heart disease, and strengthens relationships.
Sheltering at home during these past few months has provided me a lot of time to think about where I would go if I could. Let me tell you where that “jet plane” might take me:
The dogs would cock their heads as if to say, “Where do you think you are going?”, surprised by the fact that I was actually going somewhere. Out the door, leaving mask and gloves behind, I would drop my daughter, dressed fully in her school uniform – not just waist up – at school and head to the squash courts for a game and some laughs. And, when we were finished, we would shake hands, a good hearty shake. From there, I would meet a friend for a coffee or a green drink ordered in real-time, and we would catch up in person with a walk in the park. I would eagerly drive the carpool, full of girls leaning into each other like a litter of puppies, to an afternoon game and cheer with abandon from the sidelines. And, in the evening, I would meet my husband at a local restaurant, and we would wait for our food with no complaint, just pleased to be out among the other diners.
And I would go to church, sitting shoulder to shoulder in the pews, and congregate in groups larger than six. I would ride a crowded train into NYC, unworried about the length of time Metro-North might be taking. In addition to getting my family’s essentials from the grocery store and pharmacy, I would stop in at a few of my favorite non-essential local stores and waste precious time, a guilty pleasure. I would get waxed, colored, and cut! I would visit a friend in the hospital, and leave only after a good long hug.
Yes, this is what my dream vacation would look like. No need for an intricate packing list or concern for the size of my carry-on; no need to buy a new outfit or perfect beach read or healthy snack for the trip. I am sure that the crystal blue waters and the snow-tipped peaks will beckon me, one day, and that the immortal lyrics of John Denver will whisper to my soul once again, but what I really want right now is just a little more of what I had.
