Growing up, my sisters and I didn’t have opportunities for family trips or exciting travel adventures. Mom didn’t know how to drive and dad was away all week as a salesman. An exciting and adventurous family trip for us was going to the grocery store when Dad finally got home on Saturday (if we were really lucky, we also went to the pharmacy).

It was our normality and it didn’t bother us, although I had a very vivid imagination and often daydreamed on a plane bound for Paris, Rome or Timbuktu.

When I grew up, I promised myself that I would become a great traveler. My passport would groan under the weight of all those stamps.

we didn’t have money

As is often the case, life had other plans for me. I married the love of my life when I was 20, who also didn’t have a penny. Our first travel adventures as married people revolved around our work as actors, performing throughout the South in dinner theaters and then in the Northeast with children’s theater.

When our five children made their appearance, any hope of traveling was put on the back burner for the foreseeable future. The choice between buying Pampers or traveling to Bermuda was no choice.

My dreams of exotic lands were put on hold again. I would get a pang or two when some of our more financially secure friends went to Disney World with their kids (several times for some) or skiing in Colorado. We did the best we could with the budget, but certain things our family valued were priced high (violin and piano lessons come to mind), and there was always too much month left at the end of the money.

Our children saw the world on their own.

When our children reached adolescence, they had opportunities to see the world on their own, through school or music programs. Sheridan toured Europe with the Philadelphia Youth Orchestra. Rose spent a year as an exchange student in Thailand. Julie backpacked through 11 countries at age 18. I remember being so proud of them (they all worked to raise money for these opportunities) and allowing myself to imagine even a small journey in my own future.

Finally, the kids left the nest and I started working as a freelance writer. My church worker’s salary went into the general budget as always, but now I viewed my paychecks as extras, deposits on long-postponed trips to distant lands. In the last 10 years, we have been to Europe five times and Asia once. I visited my great-grandmother’s birthplace in Ireland and my daughter-in-law Ya-Jhu’s family in Taiwan.

I felt guilty for traveling

I expected to love these experiences, and I do. I didn’t expect the guilt that accompanied them. Why oh why couldn’t we come up with enough financially to take our brood on an Alaskan cruise? A tour of Barcelona? Or even a few days at Magic Kingdom? Regret was taking the joy out of our travels. My children, now grown, never expressed resentment about their upbringing, but they didn’t have to; I was sorry enough for all of us.

But recently I’ve been looking at life through a broader lens and my attitude is changing. My kids have found ways to see the world and maybe doing it alone has made their trips even sweeter. They seem really happy that my husband and I are traveling later in life. I can’t undo the past, go to medical school, or become an investment banker. Our memories of money will always be memories of struggles.

I think all my children inherited my curiosity about the world and are proud of turning their own dreams into reality. My mom often talked about going to Dublin and Honolulu, but she never made it to either place. At almost 70 years old, I deeply understand that life is very short, that tomorrow is not promised to anyone. So maybe it’s okay to take advantage of the moments we have left, to see something of this wide and wonderful world for ourselves before it’s too late.

Our 50^th The wedding anniversary is approaching and I am researching hotels in Portugal and camel rides through the Sahara, with excitement and gratitude. And no more guilt.