There aren’t any.

This is the first summer in memory that we haven’t been making plans for a vacation trip. We won’t be driving to Michigan to visit my sister Beth.

We won’t be taking the ferry to Nova Scotia, and then on to Cape Breton to see the breathtaking coastline.

We won’t be driving to West Branch Pond Camps in Kokajo, Maine for a few days of fishing and relaxing in a primitive log cabin.

I won’t be meeting my friend Theresa, who lives in Beckley, West Virginia for our yearly excursion. We’ve visited gardens and museums in Washington DC, Philadelphia, Baltimore, and New York City. We’ve toured Falling Waters, Frank Lloyd Wright’s masterpiece, Longwood Gardens in Pennsylvania, and spent a few days in Amish Country.

This summer of social isolation, we won’t be enjoying summer theater at the Gloucester Stage Company, or driving to Ontario for the Shaw Festival in Niagara-on-the-Lake. There will be no meals at the Boathouse Grill bar, or Ithaki.

Writing this list of what we are not planning makes me appreciate the richness of our lives. We take so much for granted. We are incredibly fortunate to live in a lovely location, safely cared for by our large family. We watch our great-grandchildren, Lennin and Trig, play in the yard.

Granddaughter Cecelia and her friend Annie practice cello and violin on our porch, private concerts, just for us. We can Skype with two-year old Rowan who lives in Connecticut. There is so much to be grateful for.

We have lovely memories of those wonderful summer trips. Perhaps we will have an opportunity to travel again. In the meantime, we’re just going to enjoy the pleasures of home.