I’ve written for years that I want a towable trailer, but not just any one. I want an Airstream. My wife thinks they look like rolling baked potatoes due to their aluminum outer skin, so she calls them Bak-o-Foil.
As long-time readers and those who attend our conferences know, I’m not dying to camp in national parks, or join the legions of “Airstream Addicts” that go to the Albuquerque Balloon Festival. I want a trailer so I can park myself in front of my kids’ homes when they produce grandchildren.
It hasn’t happened yet, but I’m a planner.
I don’t think my wife is on board because I don’t see a trailer under the tree, or even in the yard. She’s pretty smart, so she probably knows the truth. It’s not really the Airstream I’m after. I want time.
When my kids were young, I was always aware that they were with us for just a brief amount of time, and even then, they were pulled in many directions by sports, clubs, and friends. I never wished for them to be older. I often told my youngest that I was going to take her back to the store and trade her in for a younger version. I knew we had just a few short years before they’d become young adults and have commitments of their own.
Eventually, they’d plan their visits home by the day, or by the hour, or not at all. Not out of ill-will, but out of necessity as they created their own lives.
Through luck and some odd timing, all three are home today, it’s the first time we’ve gathered in a year. I intend to spend every minute with them, even as I devise ways to get more of their time in the future.
Time is one of the love languages, or the ways in which we show we care for others. I hope that you share the gift of time with those you care about this Christmas even if, like me, you don’t get an Airstream.