To celebrate and commemorate endings and beginnings, something out of the ordinary is generally in order. Our family decided on a European graduation vacation to mark our ends and our beginnings. The kids graduating from various levels of academia, and my wife and myself graduating from being fully responsible for the trajectory they take their lives from here on out.

We’re not completely washing our hands of them, the dirt and grime one acquires in the trenches of parenthood can never be completely scrubbed away. A little two-seat convertible may not cure post-traumatic parenting disorder, but it’s worth a try, and the wind rustling the hair in my ears might dull the voices in my head.

The voices that continually make me question if I did the best I could as a parent. Could I have did more for them? Could I have prepared them better to face the challenges adult life is going to throw their way? So it goes.

For those of you that failed geography, there is a bit of distance between Rapid City South Dakota and London England. A distance that required various planes, trains, and automobiles to traverse. A distance that required a lot of time and a lot of patience.

I am generally a patient person, but my patience was tested as we were herded into the cattle carrier portion of the airplane referred to as “economy-class”. I failed this test. My angst was not aimed at my family, but after being placated by as many complimentary drinks as the airlines will allow the commoners in economy-class to consume, I humbly apologized to them for my brief fall from grace.

While poorly suppressing their amusement with my angry battle with the overhead compartment, they forgave me. For the record, I won…sort of.

Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad if they didn’t parade you through the luxury-class section on your way to the poop deck. It’s as if the airline is teasing you. “Look at how cozy and content these people are that are not you. Take a good look. Maybe if you had worked a little harder in life you could afford one of these seats instead of the milk crate you get to sit on for the next ten hours.”

How many people intentionally share a bit of “travel gas” as they are herded through first-class just to let them folks know what life is like in the rear? Just curious.

London has a lot to take in, and there are a lot of people taking it in. It was a bit much for small town folks like my wife and I, but the kids didn’t seem to mind the hustle, bustle, bus fumes, and general chaos. If you’re looking for “Jolly Old England”, it’s not in London.

Once our sentence in London was up, we rented a car and drove to Dolgellau Wales. Actually, we drove there once I was able to break free from the maze surrounding Heathrow airport. A task not made any easier by having to drive from the right-side of the vehicle on the right-side of the road. Two rights that made for much wrong.

Why Dolgellau? In 1707, at the age of 24, my 8th-Great Grandfather, Thomas Ellis, was the first of my ancestors to leave Dolgellau in search of a brighter future in America. He was of the Quaker faith, and apparently the King of England didn’t care much for the Society of Friends, so they flipped the king a hearty salute and sailed into the sunset.

Dolgellau was peaceful and scenic, the perfect place to unwind all that London wound up. I wanted to see what Thomas had left behind. See what he thought of when he thought of home. I’m not sure why this was important or meaningful to me, but it was. It felt like a way to thank Thomas.

It was an enjoyable trip, and an experience I’m thankful we were able to take in as a family. Something to look back on as we move forward.