When my best friend and I were deciding in July whether or not we could make our trip back to Iceland and the Faroes, part of what we did was imagine all the steps (metaphorically and literally) we’d have to take. We finally allowed reality to meet romance, and we realized that although it was possible for us to go the Faroe Islands, they would be enjoyed more father down her healing road.
And that’s how we came to decide to do a “pilot” trip instead. New Mexico was an easy flight from Georgia and Texas, and we had a wonderful and familiar place to stay.
And that’s how we came to learn about priority travel–the way we can travel when one person has less mobility than she’d like.
There’s priority parking.
Priority chairs on wheels a friend can push when walking a museum is not possible.
Priority gardens out the back door when the circumference of miles usually journeyed becomes feet.
Priority hiking of 70 steps out the front door to see our neighbors, the llamas.
Priority body care including hair cuts, facials, and today, massages.
A day short of a week into our trip, we still have half a tank of gas, most of that used driving from the Albuquerque airport to Taos.
Priority travel has been about listening. Slowing. Asking for assistance. Receiving help. Nearly unceasing prayer. And lots of laughter.
From Agnes Martin’s gallery at the High Museum:
Friendship. Perfect Day.
House of Grace 