When I was a little girl, I sang a joyful song. It was “The Happy Wanderer” by Frank Weir. I sang it in the field lying down between the tall grass and lavender irises. I have loved to travel since. When I do, I hear the naysayers.
“You shouldn’t be spending the money.”
“Aren’t you afraid to go alone?”
I am the eldest of six children. Our parents never went anywhere. When my husband died at 50, I was 45. I married again. It was over in three years. Marriage, Marines and college came. My children moved on with their lives.
In 2011, I took a travel assignment to California. As a public health nurse, I had the opportunity to travel and meet people from all over the world. Every day was different. I cared for a retired medical professor from the University of Tehran, a gentleman from Afghanistan, one from Egypt who was afflicted with cancer, and many others. I traveled to California often, beginning with my son’s first deployment in 2004. I loved eating in the dining area outside a Mexican restaurant in San Juan Capistrano and putting my feet on the beach at Coronado. The sand looked like it was speckled with gold dust.
One experience never changes. I was in Maine, seated between two old babbling beauties and a young biker couple. One kept turning towards me and straining her neck, obviously searching for something. Finally, she got the courage to speak.
“Are you alone?” She inquired. Inner eyes rolled in my head.
“Here we go again.” I thought, and smiled back at her.
“Yes.” I stated, knowing that was never enough.
“Aren’t you afraid to travel by yourself?”
“Presumptuous comment.” I thought. She doesn’t know if I’ve left my husband in the hotel pool or if Uncle Harry was my travel partner and didn’t want to eat this morning. I told her the same story I had told people for years.
“My husband died when I was 45. I had no reason to stop living. I decided I wasn’t going to stay home and be dormant for the rest of my live. I’m not afraid. I enjoy going to different places and meeting all kinds of people.”
“Well, you’re a strong, brave woman!” With that she turned and resumed her breakfast and dialogue with her friend.
Recently, in Florida, I was exploring a new place as I traveled from beach to beach. I decided to stop for an ice cream.
“You are alone?” The beautiful Spanish woman inquired.
“Here we go again.” I told her the story. She listened, then spoke.
“I need to do that. My husband died two years ago. He was 52. I’m afraid to go on my own.”
I encouraged her to get out more. She gave me extra ice cream. I was beginning to feel like some kind of a super-hero just because I had the audacity to travel by myself.
One day it was breakfast time again. I inquired about a quiet corner table. The hostess heard it.
“I’m doing a talk on being alone. Let’s watch and see if the waiter says, “Only one? They say it all the time when someone is by themselves.”
The waiter approached me. “Only one?”
“This table will be fine. Please bring me a cup of coffee.”
Last summer, I visited the home of the poet Robert Frost in Vermont. If eyes could leave a visible trail, there is always a circle around me, looking for my companions. I saw the trail again and answered the unspoken question.
“Yes, I am alone.”
One discovery leads to another. In Florida, I met a woman from Canada who was a former tourism employee. She told me about Old Quebec City and that it is the oldest, European-style city in North America. I went there recently and loved it, in spite of my rusty high school French. Of course I was asked the question!
I never really feel alone. Prayers are always answered along the way. There is an unseen hand that guides me. One of my guardian angels on an airplane made sure he got a biscotti for me while I dozed. He lifted my suitcase, carried it, escorted me to my gate, and sent me on my way. People do these things from the kindness of their heart as if they were assigned to me. I meet many along the way. Inspiration always comes. The love for traveling has always been a part of me. I just love to go-a-wandering.
Currently a school nurse, Fran resides in upstate New York. From the Nurse's Office, This email address is being protected from spambots. You need JavaScript enabled to view it. .