“I didn’t want to leave…”

We bought a home in Orlando. It’s sandwiched between my kid’s vacation homes about twenty minutes from Disney.

My kids took their children to Orlando last year. Both families have members with highly sensitives allergies, and one of my sons has to cook every meal on a non-contaminated grill or stove. This made staying in a hotel in the park prohibitively expensive. They decided for what they spent for the week they could pay off mortgage payments for a year- so, they found a newly constructed development and bought small vacation homes.

I purchased the home between the both of them. I figured if they were going to vacation there every year, I would be able to go down and be near them if they went for extended visits, have a place in warm weather for the two of us, and lastly, who wouldn’t want a home in Florida?

My husband was sick these last few years; we never made it down to see the place. I figured I’d use it as a “Hemingway” retreat. I’d sit outside with the lizards working on my next book.

I went down for the first time this Spring vacation with the kids. I had big plans. The weather can be brutal, the heat unforgiving. The kids were concerned about me trekking through the parks. I wasn’t thrilled with the idea either.

The kids cautioned me that they put on five to six miles a day. I was fine with the idea of staying home while they did the theme parks. I have a romance novel I’d like to write, something historical, a bit more adult then what I’m used to publishing.

I will admit it’s been hard to write these last few weeks, so I assumed the change of scenery would do me some good. After all, what else could I do in Orlando?

The kids could go to the parks, and I would sit in the lanai, and allow the towering palms to inspire me. Did I mention I have a ton of work to do, as well? We are releasing my son’s new book April 13, so there are a million things to prepare for the launch. I doubt I’ll see much beyond my front doorstep.

My memories of the theme park are suitably rosy and sentimental. I haven’t been to Disneyworld in twenty-three years. I’ve cleaned out all the memorabilia from that trip recently. I told the kids there would be nothing there for me to either do or see, I was pretty sure I’d done it all already.
This is now day three, and I have logged more miles than a Hertz Rent a Car.
Well, I must say, going to Disney as a grandparent is a whole new experience. Seeing your grandkids on the rides, watching them line up for autographs, buying new junk to clutter their rooms is wonderful.

Did I feel the heat or the many miles I logged? Nope, not one bit.
I will admit Mickey does pull at my heartstrings a bit. We go a long way back and don’t think I didn’t tell him when I stood in line to shake his hand with the kids.

My family pulled me into the line to have my picture taken with my granddaughter. I felt awkward. It was for kids. I didn’t belong. They insisted.
The character actor charmed me. I felt my reserve melt, and when that big plastic head nodded at me and asked if I was enjoying myself, I felt the years slip away. I told him he was my first love, sixty-odd years ago and probably shaped my life with his good advice and kind words.

Mickey and I had a good chuckle about it, and I rediscovered something about myself. If you try to see the world through the eyes of a child, you’ll never get old.

Well, I hit all the parks with the kids. Don’t get me started on Harry Potter’s corner of Universal. I didn’t want to leave, but with my broom in hand, I took off. It was late, and both Epcot and Dole Whip were waiting for me the next day.