As I watched Julia Roberts eat, pray and love her way around the world, I was almost too jealous to enjoy the “Eat Pray Love” movie, which will be released on DVD Nov. 23. I wanted to be her–not Julia Roberts, although that would be nice. I wanted to be Elizabeth Gilbert, the writer who made a mint with her chick-lit bestseller, Eat Pray Love, which tells the story of her year-long odyssey to find herself.
I have traveled alone, most memorably to London where I saw six plays in five days, but mostly these days I travel with kids. A couple of times a year, we manage a family trip for a week or so. And, once a year, hubby and I are lucky enough to travel without the kids.
Usually, it’s little more than a weekend trip to celebrate our anniversary. But even 48 hours is enough time to remember why I fell in love with my husband.
When we aren’t focused on schedules and exhausted by working too hard, when there is no one to interrupt our conversation or require help with something, when we can spend hours lingering over dinner and take long walks, it’s easy to remember that we are funny and that we really, really like one another.
Our most memoriable trip was five days in Puerto Rico, a magical place. As my husband and I waited for the plane that would take us home from our idyllic trip, I looked into his eyes and asked, “Was this trip so special because Puerto Rico is so special? Or was it because we didn’t bring the kids?”
“That’s easy: Because we didn’t bring the kids,” he yelled, turning heads in the San Juan Airport. “We could have gone to Iowa and it would have been special so long as we were traveling without the kids.”