As a vacation from my vacation, I drove to Ottawa this past weekend to meet up with some friends from University and go white-water rafting. In retrospect, this was one of the most adult things I’ve done in a while.
Growing up, my parents would often reference trips they went on with their friends once they’d all moved apart to different cities and countries. They’d meet up somewhere reasonably close to everyone (for them it was places like Cuba and Jamaica), spend a few days there hanging out, and then go back to their individual homes. It was a way to keep in contact and maintain relationships when the aspect of proximity, which started them in the first place, moved on. I’ve wondered for the last few months why I’ve never done something like that, and then it occurred to me that this trip was exactly that – of the group of seven of us, only one person actually lived in Ottawa, but it’s pretty much in the middle of where we all came from.