After 12 years of parenting, my husband and I took our first real vacation alone. The hardest part was letting go — and learning to enjoy the silence.
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When my husband and I boarded a flight to Europe earlier this summer, we were embarking on our first major trip alone since becoming parents 12 years ago.
I knew it would be an adjustment to travel without our twins. What I hadn't quite realized was that the hard part happened before we even left home.
A few days earlier, we'd dropped our 12-year-old twins off for a 19-day session at the same Southern California sleepaway camp I attended for 11 summers growing up. I believe deeply in what camp gives kids: independence, resilience, confidence, problem-solving skills, and lifelong friendships. Last year, they went for two weeks and loved it. This year they asked for the full session.
I spent weeks preparing: labeling clothes, packing sunscreen, writing letters to be opened on specific days. I made a spreadsheet of packing lists and medication schedules. I thought I was ready.
But when we walked away from their cabin, I felt a physical pull in my chest. They were waving goodbye, already turning to meet new friends, and I was the one struggling. My husband squeezed my hand and said, "They're fine. We're the ones who need to adjust."
He was right. The first two days at home were strange. I kept listening for their voices, waking up at 6 a.m. out of habit, making too much food at dinner. The house felt like a museum of their absence.
Then we flew to Barcelona. We boarded a cruise ship and sailed to the French and Italian Rivieras. For the first time in over a decade, our schedule belonged entirely to us.
We slept in. We ate long dinners without cutting anyone's food or negotiating over vegetables. We sat on deck reading books for hours. We took a cooking class in Provence and a wine tasting in Tuscany. We held hands and talked about things that had nothing to do with school drop-offs or pediatrician appointments.
It was unsettling at first not to have parenting duties. I'd reach for my phone to check the camp app for photos, then remind myself there was no app. I'd see a child on the ship and automatically scan for my own. The silence felt loud.
But by day three, something shifted. I stopped waiting for the other shoe to drop. I started enjoying the present moment without guilt. I realized that our identity as a couple who built our family was still there, underneath the layers of carpools and homework and laundry.
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