Perhaps I Go Anyway

Should I Stay, or Should I Go?

On uncertainty, adventure, and the beautiful business of living.

Lately, I have been sitting with a question that seems rather simple on the surface.

Should I go to Portugal, or should I cancel my trip?

I have flights booked, beautiful hotels reserved, and a little itinerary filled with places I have never seen. Lisbon, Coimbra, Porto. Streets I have yet to wander, buildings whose histories I have yet to discover, and little cafés where I might sit with a coffee and watch the world go by.

And yet, there is uncertainty.

There have been demonstrations, people expressing frustrations about the challenges facing their communities, and questions about whether traveling there right now would be wise.

So I have been doing what I generally do when faced with a decision.

Reading, researching, considering the possibilities, and attempting to distinguish between legitimate concerns and the endless list of things that could happen.

I don't want to be irresponsible. I certainly don't want to find myself stranded somewhere in the middle of serious turmoil. Safety matters, and I have no intention of ignoring reasonable precautions simply because I have a plane ticket.

But I also don't want to spend my life being afraid of what might happen.

And the more I think about Portugal, the more I realize that this decision has become about something much bigger than a vacation.

A Year of Unexpected Lessons

This has been quite a year.

Not necessarily the year I imagined when I welcomed January, but then again, how often does life unfold precisely as we expect?

There have been unexpected changes, moments of uncertainty, opportunities to reconsider old assumptions, and a few lessons I probably wouldn't have volunteered to learn.

Some have been wonderful.

Others have required a little more patience, perspective, and grace.

I have found myself thinking quite a bit about expectations, particularly how easily we can become attached to the idea that life should unfold in a certain way.

We make plans. We establish routines. We grow comfortable with the familiar. We assume that tomorrow will resemble yesterday, at least in the ways that matter most.

And then life reminds us that certainty was never part of the agreement.

I have always appreciated honesty, direct communication, and knowing where I stand. I like clear answers, thoughtful decisions, and a reasonably good understanding of what comes next.

Unfortunately, life doesn't always provide those things.

Sometimes we simply have to become comfortable with not knowing everything.

We have to trust our ability to respond to whatever comes next rather than insisting on knowing exactly what that will be.

Perhaps that has been one of my greatest lessons this year.

Not everything requires an immediate answer. Not every unexpected turn is a disaster. And not every uncomfortable chapter deserves to become the defining story of an otherwise wonderful life.

There is tremendous freedom in recognizing that we can be thoughtful without overthinking, cautious without becoming fearful, and discerning without closing ourselves off to new experiences.

And perhaps most importantly, we can allow life to surprise us.

And Oh, How Beautifully It Has Surprised Me

Because while this year has included its share of unexpected lessons, it has also been extraordinary.

I went to Italy.

I wandered through Rome, Florence, and Venice, soaking up history, art, architecture, and the sheer pleasure of discovering somewhere new.

I went to Greece.

I explored Athens, stood in places I had only read about, and watched the breathtaking beauty of Santorini unfold before me.

Somewhere along the way, travel became more than something I enjoyed.

It became something I genuinely love.

Not because I am searching for an escape from my everyday life. Quite the opposite.

I have a life I enjoy immensely.

But travel has introduced me to another side of myself, one that delights in the unfamiliar, welcomes a little spontaneity, and finds enormous satisfaction in navigating the world independently.

There is something wonderfully freeing about waking up in a foreign city with an entire day of possibilities ahead.

I can choose where to go, what to see, where to eat, and how long to linger in a museum or wander through a neighborhood.

I can change my mind halfway through the day.

I can walk another mile simply because I am curious about what might be around the next corner.

And I have discovered that I am rather good company.

Imagine that!

I can navigate unfamiliar cities, solve unexpected problems, make decisions, and find my way even when things don't go precisely according to plan.

And every adventure seems to remind me of something worth remembering at home.

Confidence doesn't necessarily come from knowing what will happen. Sometimes it comes from knowing that whatever happens, you can figure out what to do next.

The Little Girl Who Makes Everything Sweeter

Of course, some of the greatest adventures of my year haven't required a passport.

Some have involved princess dresses, playgrounds, bedtime stories, silly conversations, and the most wonderful little girl in the world.

My granddaughter.

Being Honey to that precious little girl is one of the greatest privileges of my life.

I have spent wonderful stretches of time with her this year, enjoying the everyday magic of childhood through her eyes.

We have had playground dates, school mornings, dress-up adventures, fall festivals, story time, and plenty of moments when her imagination has taken us somewhere far more interesting than anything I could have planned.

And the beautiful thing is that we have so much more to look forward to.

More time together in Charleston before Christmas. A visit to Atlanta in January. Another in February. A whole week together in March.

And in August, Honey already has a couple of weeks reserved for her little princess while her parents travel to Italy.

I have no idea what adventures April, May, June, or July might bring.

But isn't that part of the fun?

There are still so many days waiting to surprise me.

And I have a feeling that some of the very best ones will involve a little girl taking my hand and asking me to play.

There is a lesson in that, too.

Children don't spend much time worrying about whether tomorrow will be as wonderful as today.

They simply wake up ready to discover what the day has to offer.

Perhaps we grown-ups could benefit from a little more of that.

Back to Portugal

So here I sit, wondering whether to cancel my trip.

If I go, I will spend Thanksgiving exploring Portugal before returning home and preparing for Christmas in Madrid.

If I stay, I will have time to enjoy being home, catch up on a few things, and perhaps share a lovely Thanksgiving dinner with my son.

Neither possibility sounds particularly terrible.

And that, in itself, is a wonderful place to be.

But I keep returning to one thought.

What if I go?

What if I arrive in Lisbon and discover a beautiful city filled with the ordinary rhythms of daily life?

What if I wander through historic neighborhoods, visit magnificent buildings, discover wonderful little restaurants, and spend my days doing exactly what I love?

And what if everything isn't perfect?

What if there are demonstrations or disruptions?

What if I encounter people expressing their frustrations about housing, the cost of living, or the challenges facing their communities?

Perhaps that becomes part of what I observe and learn.

Not something to romanticize. Not something to approach recklessly. And certainly not something to place myself in the middle of if conditions become unsafe.

But perhaps it is also a reminder that the places we visit are not amusement parks created for our enjoyment.

They are real places, filled with real people, living real lives.

People with hopes and frustrations, celebrations and disappointments, joys and grievances.

Just like the rest of us.

After all, my own life hasn't been entirely free of complications this year, and yet it has also been filled with extraordinary beauty.

Why would I expect the rest of the world to be any different?

Of course, there are limits.

If reliable information suggests that travel would be unsafe, significantly disrupted, or likely to leave me stranded, I will change my plans.

That isn't fear.

That's good judgment.

But I don't want to confuse uncertainty with danger, or caution with the need to retreat.

And I certainly don't want to convince myself that a wonderful experience requires perfect circumstances.

Leaving Room for Life to Surprise Me

I think one of the things I am most determined to protect is my ability to look forward to life.

I want to remain curious.

I want to continue meeting interesting people, exploring beautiful places, learning new things, and saying yes to experiences that make life richer.

I want to be thoughtful about my decisions without becoming so consumed by possible outcomes that I forget to enjoy the possibilities.

There is a difference between being prepared and trying to control everything.

And I suspect that one of the quiet gifts of growing older is learning to recognize that difference.

We can make plans without becoming attached to every detail.

We can have expectations without allowing them to become demands.

We can change our minds without considering it a failure.

And we can accept that sometimes the most wonderful experiences begin with a little uncertainty.

There are still so many places I haven't visited, books I haven't read, people I haven't met, and experiences I haven't even imagined.

There are beautiful mornings ahead, delicious meals to cook, long walks to take, museums to explore, and countless opportunities to laugh.

There are holidays with my children, adventures with my granddaughter, and ordinary afternoons that may someday become some of my most treasured memories.

And there are undoubtedly surprises ahead that I cannot begin to imagine.

Some will be delightful.

Others may require a little more patience.

But I don't want to miss the delightful ones because I have spent too much time anticipating the others.

Enjoy the Joy. Enjoy the Pain.

I have said for years that my approach to life is simple:

Enjoy the joy. Enjoy the pain; that is living.

Perhaps that sounds strange to some people.

But I have never believed that a wonderful life is one without difficulty.

A wonderful life is one in which we continue to participate fully, knowing that difficulty is simply part of the experience.

We make mistakes.

We learn things the hard way.

We experience disappointment.

We make plans that change.

And sometimes we find ourselves standing in circumstances we never would have chosen.

But we also discover extraordinary beauty.

We laugh until our faces hurt.

We fall in love with places, people, and experiences.

We watch little children grow.

We discover that we are stronger, more resourceful, and more capable than we realized.

And sometimes, in the middle of a year that hasn't gone entirely according to plan, we look around and recognize that it has also been one of the most wonderful years of our lives.

That is the part I don't want to miss.

And though I am leaning towards going, I don't yet know whether I will board that flight to Portugal.

Perhaps I will.

Perhaps I won't.

But whatever I decide, I hope it will come from a place of thoughtful consideration rather than fear.

And if I decide to stay home, I hope I will enjoy that choice just as fully.

Because the real lesson isn't that I should always go.

It isn't that every opportunity must be seized, every trip must be taken, or every adventure must happen right now.

The lesson is that I get to choose, and I can find joy in either direction.

I don't have to wait for life to become perfectly predictable before I allow myself to enjoy it.

I can be cautious and adventurous.

I can be thoughtful and spontaneous.

I can appreciate the comfort of home while remaining endlessly curious about the world.

I can carry the lessons of yesterday without allowing them to steal the possibilities of tomorrow.

And perhaps that is what this year has been reminding me all along.

Life doesn't have to be perfect to be wonderful.

Sometimes it is the unexpected turns, the revised plans, the beautiful surprises, and even the occasional detour that make the story worth telling.

So, should I stay, or should I go?

I feel more certain that I will go rather than stay home, but I haven't decided.

But I am rather excited about what comes next.

And isn't that a lovely way to live?

With love,

Honey 🐝