Once I hit 60, I noticed my group of friends had changed. Through my mid-years it had been an even mix of men and women, mostly couples and a few singles, but now the composition had shifted to 90% women, and single women at that.
“Multigenerational travel” has been a buzzword for a few years now. Who can argue with the brochure-ready images of grandparents, adult children, and grandkids all sharing in the joys a family adventure can bring?
I’m a 62-year-old reformed over-packer. You know the type. We want ‘options’ while traveling, which, in my case, meant I threw everything I had into my suitcase the night before the trip, assuming I would “figure it all out” on the fly.
After losing my husband and globe-trotting partner of 24 years to cancer, I knew I would travel again someday. At nearly 60, I was still a relatively young woman, and there was a lot of world left to see. But my trips to so-called ‘romantic’ destinations were history as far as I was concerned.
You’ve probably thought about it. Maybe you even planned it sometime at the beginning of your fifth decade, then let all the deadlines pass.