2009 wasn’t a year of too much travel, but that’s okay, because the best trip, hands down would still be to Andrew’s childhood home in Springfield, Illinois.  I’d been to Springfield before, for a Christmas visit, and absolutely loved it.  Still, throughout the Christmas trip, Andrew and his sister kept saying, “Come back in the summer—it’s so much better in the summer!”

When we landed one June afternoon and had our first dinner on the family porch, overlooking Lake Springfield, I knew that they were so right.

Visiting during the summer meant afternoons spent balancing on neon water noodles in the crisp lake or tooling around in their boat.  I laughed hysterically while Andrew pulled me around the lake on the tube, trying his darndest to knock me and his sister, Paige off the tube.  I shared glasses of white wine with Andrew’s mom and enjoyed her delicious cooking.  Andrew and I went out to lunch and took a long walk through a gorgeous garden.  We met up with friends at bars and he drove me around the places where he grew up.  I saw my first firefly and ate my millionth horseshoe.  I enjoyed fireworks with Andrew’s arm around me as we watched their reflection in the sky and on the lake on the 4th of July.  I stayed up late, slept in late, and napped when I felt like it.  There were board games and giggles and way, way too much snacking.

Sure, many of these things are things that we could do here, in California.  But Illinois is magic—part firefly, part humidity, part family of the person I love, and part break from the everyday.  It is a true vacation in that we don’t do much of anything—we just get away, with no agenda, and no guilt about not having one.  It’s rest.

I can’t wait to go back—both for a winter visit in just a few weeks and for summer 2010.

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