The Lovely Little Luxury of Having Something to Look Forward To

There is something wonderfully life-giving about having plans on the calendar.

Not because I want to rush through today to get to tomorrow. Quite the opposite, actually. I love my ordinary days. I love my home, my routines, my work, my walks, my sunsets, and the quiet little life I've created for myself.

But there is something delicious about looking at the weeks and months ahead and seeing little pockets of happiness waiting for me.

Things to look forward to.

And right now, my calendar is full of them.

In a couple of days, I'm heading to Atlanta for a week. My daughter and son-in-law will be traveling, which means I get one of my very favorite things in the entire world:

Lots and lots of alone time with my granddaughter.

They get a trip.

I get her.

I'm pretty sure I win. 😊

And we have plans.

Oh, do we have plans.

Honey will be doing school drop-offs and pick-ups. Dance class. Gymnastics. Our meals and mornings and bedtime together. All of those wonderfully ordinary things that become completely extraordinary when you're doing them with someone you love beyond measure.

We even have an evening at her school with dinner and fire trucks and ambulances, and police cars—and the wonderful people who do the work of keeping the rest of us safe.

And...

A TRASH TRUCK.

If there is a small child in your life and you don't know Hank and Trash Truck, I regret to inform you that you are missing some important cultural education.

My granddaughter and I love Trash Truck.

So yes, we will see the fire truck.

We will appreciate the ambulance.

We will admire the police car.

But when that big city trash truck rolls in?

Honey and her girl are going to have a MOMENT. 😂

And that's just September.

Then Comes October

I'll head back to Atlanta in October, this time for almost two weeks, returning home November 1.

And tucked inside that visit are five more days when I get my little girl all to myself.

There will be more school.

More activities.

More little conversations.

More snacks.

More bedtime routines.

More tiny hands in mine.

And then comes Halloween.

I already know exactly who the cutest little trick-or-treater in my world is going to be.

Tinker Bell. 🧚‍♀️

I actually bought her Tinker Bell costume for her birthday, intending for it to join the ever-growing collection at her dress-up station—one of her favorite places to play.

But my daughter saw it and immediately decided it was far too cute to release into general dress-up circulation just yet.

She tucked it away.

Halloween costume.

After Halloween, Tinker Bell can officially join the princesses, pediatrician, chiropractor, and whoever else currently resides in the dress-up department.

But here's the part that gets me.

Apparently, my granddaughter now tells people almost every day that Honey is coming for Halloween, and she's going to get candy with Honey on Halloween.

I mean...

Come on. ❤️

She's already looking forward to it.

And maybe that's because when you're little, Halloween is one of the most important holidays on the calendar.

You get to dress up.

You go outside after dark.

People literally hand you candy.

Everyone is pretending.

The neighborhood becomes a party.

It's FUN.

And isn't that something worth carrying with us into adulthood?

We talk so much about finding purpose and meaning and fulfillment in life—and those things matter enormously.

But maybe we shouldn't forget to find the fun, too.

Wear the costume.

Eat the candy.

Get ridiculously excited about seeing a trash truck.

Take the trip.

Watch the sunset.

Dance when the song you love comes on.

Be Tinker Bell for an evening.

Life can be serious enough all by itself.

We don't need to help it.

And Then... Portugal 🇵🇹

Two weeks later, I'll get on an airplane in Charleston and head across the Atlantic.

Alone.

But certainly not lonely.

I'll spend four nights in Lisbon, two in Coimbra, and five in Porto, including Thanksgiving Day.

And yes, because apparently I cannot leave a perfectly good travel itinerary alone, I changed my Lisbon hotel. 😂

I found somewhere that felt a little lovelier for me while still being wonderfully kind to my travel budget: Corpo Santo Lisbon Historical Hotel.

So now it's official.

Lisbon.

Coimbra.

Porto.

Trains between them.

Brisk November air.

Portuguese tiles.

Coffee and pastel de nata.

Museums and churches and bookstores.

Miles and miles on my sneakers.

Thanksgiving on the Douro.

And eleven nights of waking up and asking myself one of my favorite questions:

What do I feel like doing today?

That is one of the greatest luxuries of traveling alone.

Would I love to share some of those moments with someone I love?

Of course.

There will probably be a beautiful view or a wonderful meal when I'll think how lovely it would be to have someone sitting beside me.

But then again, I am sharing it with someone I love very much.

Me.

I've become pretty good company.

And I think there's something beautiful about being able to love companionship while also loving your own company. They aren't opposites.

I can wish someone were there for a moment without believing something is missing from the moment I'm already having.

Alone and lonely are not the same thing.

Not even close.

And Then I Come Home

Portugal will end.

Christmas will come and go. Time with family, and time bidding 2026 farewell.

And in January?

Back to Atlanta.

Another week with my favorite little girlie.

Another week when my daughter and son-in-law get to go explore the world while I receive what feels suspiciously like the better end of the bargain.

I genuinely love that they travel.

I love that they're curious about the world and that they're building a life full of experiences.

But I'd be lying if I didn't admit there's another reason I enthusiastically support this hobby:

Their travel means granddaughter time for Honey.

And there is nothing they could give me that I would treasure more.

They Even Made Me an Office

Because I spend so much time at their home now, my daughter and son-in-law recently created a little workspace for me.

Not just somewhere to put my laptop.

They gave me my own setup, complete with dual monitors, so now I can arrive with my laptop, plug in, and work from their home as much as I need—or want—to.

It's such a practical little thing.

And somehow, it touched me enormously.

Because what it really says is:

We made room for you.

Not just room for Honey to visit.

Room for my life there.

Room for me to be a grandmother and still do my work.

Room for me to stay longer.

Room for me to belong.

They're building a new home now, and I imagine my little workspace there may eventually become even more robust.

Although, for the record, I'd happily work from a folding chair inside a coat closet if it meant getting more time with my granddaughter.

Give me Wi-Fi and an electrical outlet.

I'll figure out the rest. 😂

The Happiness Before the Happiness

Maybe that's what I've been noticing lately.

Anticipation is its own kind of happiness.

Portugal isn't making me happy only in November.

Portugal is making me happy now.

I can imagine walking through Lisbon.

I can picture arriving in Coimbra.

I can think about Thanksgiving morning in Porto.

Likewise, I'm already smiling about a trash truck I haven't seen.

I'm imagining a tiny Tinker Bell carrying her candy bucket.

I'm looking forward to dance classes I won't be dancing in and gymnastics classes in which I will perform precisely zero gymnastics.

And somewhere in Atlanta, my granddaughter is already telling people that Honey is coming for Halloween.

She's doing it, too.

She's enjoying the happiness before the happiness.

Maybe children understand this better than we do.

They don't feel silly about being excited.

They don't temper their enthusiasm because something is still six weeks away.

They tell everyone who will listen.

Honey is coming. I'm going to be Tinker Bell. We're getting candy.

Done.

Life is good.

Perhaps we grown-ups could learn something from that.

Something to Look Forward To Doesn't Have to Be Big

This is the part I don't want to lose.

Because I don't want to accidentally convince myself that anticipation requires an airline ticket.

It doesn't.

It can be dinner with someone you love.

A walk on Saturday morning.

A concert.

A visit from a friend.

A new book.

A weekend with your grandchildren.

A reservation at a restaurant you've wanted to try.

A favorite show waiting for you that evening.

A sunset you intend to go watch.

An hour with absolutely nowhere you need to be.

Something that makes you smile when you remember it's coming.

There are grand adventures.

And there are ordinary days.

A beautiful life needs room for both.

There Will Always Be Another Adventure

Right now, I have four flights sitting in my Delta app waiting for me.

Four.

I think perhaps that's enough. 😂

I don't need to search for another destination or manufacture another thing to anticipate.

I don't need to decide whether Italy or Spain comes next.

Those places aren't going anywhere.

Instead, I can enjoy what's already waiting for me.

Atlanta in a few days.

Dance class and gymnastics and school runs and Trash Truck excitement.

Atlanta again in October.

Tinker Bell holding Honey's hand while we go looking for candy.

Portugal in November.

Lisbon. Coimbra. Porto.

Thanksgiving by myself in a beautiful place.

Atlanta again in January.

And scattered between all of those things?

My actual life.

Dinner.

Work.

My evening walks.

A beautiful sunset.

Coffee in the morning.

A good song.

A quiet night at home.

An ordinary Tuesday that turns out to be particularly lovely.

Those things count, too.

Maybe there is a rhythm to anticipation.

We don't need to constantly put something bigger and shinier on the horizon.

Sometimes we already have enough wonderful things coming.

Our job is simply to notice them.

And when these trips have passed, the boarding passes have disappeared from my Delta app, the suitcase is back in the closet, and the calendar has grown quieter, there will eventually come a moment when I'll think:

I wonder where I should go next...

And that's when I'll start dreaming about Italy.

Or Spain.

Or somewhere I haven't even thought of yet.

I'll open a map.

I'll start looking at flights.

I'll find a hotel that makes me smile.

And the delicious anticipation will begin all over again.

But not yet.

Right now, I don't need something else to look forward to.

I already have so much.

My calendar is beautifully full.

Not busy full.

Life full.

There are days with my granddaughter.

There are adventures by myself.

There is work I enjoy and a little desk waiting for me in Atlanta.

There are trains I haven't boarded yet and Portuguese streets I haven't walked.

There are ordinary mornings and extraordinary trips.

There is home.

There is away.

There are people I love.

And there is a life I genuinely look forward to waking up and living.

Maybe that's the real luxury.

Not having every moment planned.

Just having enough beautiful things scattered ahead that every once in a while you glance at the calendar and think:

Ohhhh... I can't wait. 😊

And somewhere in Atlanta, a tiny Tinker Bell apparently feels exactly the same way.

She's counting down to Halloween with Honey.

And Honey?

Honey is counting down, too. 🐝🧚‍♀️

🍯 A Honey Note

Don't become so busy looking for the next wonderful thing that you miss the wonderful things already on their way.

And between the big adventures, remember the little ones.

Find the meaning. Find the beauty. Find the gratitude. And for goodness' sake, find the fun.

With plenty to look forward to—and no need to add another flight just yet,

🍯Honey (MaryNell) 🐝