When you reach retirement age, thoughts of fancy cruises and tropical islands invade your brain. You are finally free to break away from the working world and enjoy life to the max. Most of us retirees are living on Social Security income, which BTW we have earned during our working years. We pinch pennies to pay the mortgage, buy groceries, pay for health insurance, doctor bills and prescriptions. Not to mention, we’re not capable of doing those chores that keep a house clean and a yard looking nice. If you are one of those who have a retirement plan, you have been waiting for this time to come so you can spread your wings and fly.

After our nest was empty, my husband and I decided to embark on a road trip to Colorado. We’d saved enough to cover most of our expenses. We would be living in our vehicle, making our own meals and basically camping – which you already know how much I love that. Our destination was Estes Park, Colorado. There would be the usual oohs and aahs as we traveled through God’s country. We’d stop occasionally for something to eat or just to make a pit stop.

When we reached our location and went to our assigned campsite, we were ready for some quality sleep time. After joining others at the campfire, I decided to get ready for a long nap. I got into the small camper and began to change my clothes. I felt like the walls were closing in on me. My breathing became labored and I really thought it was going to be curtains for me. I could hear my husband rustling around inside the cab and called out to him.

“You have to get me out of here. I can’t take it. Please – please- somebody help me. I’m going to die right now.”

Well, my dramatic screams for help didn’t cut it. The camper top was opened and there he stood – laughing his head off at me.

“Get me out of here,” I cried. “Everything is closing in on me.”

I finally escaped and ran to the restroom to change my clothes and compose myself. When I returned to the campsite, the manager (whose camper was parked next to ours) was discussing the disturbance with my husband. By then a few onlookers had gathered to see what was going on.

Apparently, I was a victim of AMS – or acute mountain sickness. The altitude took over and I was much weirder than I normally am. I’m glad it was explainable, but we made a beeline out of there the minute the sun rose over those splendid mountains. From there on, we used our VISA card to cover our remaining time on the trip.

We took some shorter road trips in the last couple years of my husband’s life. I vowed not to take a longer trip after another adventure to South Carolina for our grandson’s; college graduation. That’s a story for another time, but I will tell you that we were lucky to make it through 60 years of marriage without letting that trip take its toll.

“And in the end, it’s not the years in your life that count. It’s the life in your years.” Abraham Lincoln