"Aunty, we're going to see the All Blacks play". 'In Auckland?' I asked showing probably not the right level of interest. "No we're off to Chicago".
Ten days later my two nephews departed for a week's break in the United States to watch their heroes play rugby. Great to have the financial resources to trot here, there and everywhere as they do. At the same time my sister was doing a European river cruise. This was her annual month away from home. What they don't know, and why would they, is that those at home can get anxious when family members travel overseas these days. Travel has never been risk free but the world, and people in it, has changed so much over recent years. You never know what you'll likely to encounter.
When you are a small family, as mine is, and half are out of the country of course you worry. My two sisters and I haven't made a great contribution to increasing New Zealand's population. My older sister had three sons, one died some years ago, no children for me and my younger sister just one daughter. With two nephews and one sister overseas at the same time, who wouldn't be anxious? My mother, years ago when I lived overseas, had the answer. She prayed. She left it up to the Good Lord. He would look after the family at all times. Back then the world didn't seem so dangerous. Now it appears there's a terrorist or at least the potential for one, around every corner. They have taken a little of the shine off international travel.
Looking back it never occurred to me to think how my mother might have felt having two of her three daughters living away from home for many years. I was out of the country for nearly 10 years, my sister 13. This was in the days before personal computers and laptops in most homes. Email and Skype were unheard of, probably only just getting onto the drawing board. Keeping in touch then meant putting pen to paper. And on a regular basis. My mother was good at that and I tried to hold up my end. Not always as often as I should I must to admit. Those letters were like a lifeline. Sometimes I would read them and cry. They weren't sad letters, just keeping me informed about what everyone was doing and how they were getting on. It's just that you're not there. Not at home with those you love. Christmas phone calls were a mixed blessing. I'd cry, and so would they, when each member of the family took their turn to say hello. And I could hear my father in the background admonishing the family "get off the phone if that's all you're going to do". Of course when his turn came I could tell he only just managed to remain composed himself. Wouldn't do to let the softer side show. Those days are no more, long gone.
I received regular email updates by iPad from my sister, including photos of her journey through stunning countryside. Her cruise ship was apparently everything you could want in luxury and relaxed travel. The cities she visited are centuries old, Budapest being the one she loved the most.
