She went to Paris...

Last night I dreamed I went to Paris. I love to travel and do it often—in my mind. The truth is, even though I hold a degree in their language, I’ve never been to France. In fact, I’ve only been as far north as Louisville, Ky., actually, make that Ohio. We crossed the river to go to a restaurant while visiting relatives.

My husband is ten years older than I am, and I used to feel inadequate when his friends would discuss all the places they’ve been. I would tell myself that in ten years, I’ll be able to boast of all the places I’ve been. That was 13 years ago. Turns out my husband doesn’t like to get too far from home, and I’m not too keen on flying.

But, that’s okay, we take lots of road trips. We haven’t made it out west yet, but the kids have seen the “Little Grand Canyon,” also known as Providence Canyon State Park in Lumpkin, Georgia. We may not have been to Greece, but we’ve seen a few football games in Athens. So, we haven’t strolled through Italy, but we’ve walked along the banks of the Coosa in Rome, Georgia. And although I haven’t been on a pilgrimage, I once got a Christmas card from Bethlehem, Ga.

We may not have seen the Eiffel Tower, but we've seen the Big Chicken, Casey Jones museum, Helen Keller's tennis courts, a motel made out of giant Wigwams and Elvis' airplanes. What more could we ask for?

Still, occasionally, I dream of traveling a little farther. My grandmother visited all 50 states, most of them after the age of 70 and by bus, so maybe there’s hope for me yet. Why, just today, I began planning my family’s trip to Paris this summer—Paris, Tenn., that is. It's a start.