Earlier this year, Rodney and I took our first vacation as empty nesters. Following a difficult season which included the loss of both of my parents, as well as the wedding celebrations of our four children in four years, we were a little spent. So, the kids helped plan a trip to our favorite beach as a Christmas gift.

It was a different kind of trip. Our itinerary had nothing on it. We planned to sleep late, eat out, walk on the beach, read and ring in 2025 with an early dinner at a favorite restaurant on the bayfront. That lasted about 24 hours.

By the second day, I had managed to crack a rib but didn’t know it until we got back home. In hindsight, I’m not sure that I would have ventured out of the condo all week if I had known the source of my pain. Breathing was difficult and I shrieked every time I sneezed, hiccupped, tried to sleep or when we hit one of a thousand speed bumps between Florida and Arkansas. I scaled back a bit, convincing myself that it was another kidney stone wreaking havoc.

 Somewhere along the way, travel for many of us became a competitive sport. When the kids are vacationing with us, we try to do all of the things. From deep sea fishing and bike rides on the beach to pickleball and marathon shopping, we play until we drop. By the time we get home, we need a vacation from our vacation. That’s where slow travel rolls into play. Think quiet, chill and possibly wearing linen as you sip tropical drinks, enjoy fine dining and stroll through art galleries.

I think the slow travel trend is perfect for empty nesters, and with a cracked rib, I had all the incentive I needed to embrace slowing down.

Simply put, slow travel is the radical idea that maybe you don’t need to see all of Italy in six days. Maybe you can sit at a café for two hours drinking overpriced coffee that comes with a tiny biscuit. Or perhaps you rent a small vacation home in the mountains and visit off-the-beaten path venues that are favorites among the locals, rather than attempting to hit every ski resort in the vicinity.

The slow travel movement is about digging deeper instead of racing faster. It’s about experiencing one place fully—tasting, listening, wandering around new places without Google Maps, and perhaps even getting lost without having a meltdown. Instead, you simply embrace it and perhaps make new discoveries along the way.

Slow travelers are committed. They rent cottages. They shop at local markets. They make friends with cheese mongers. They take naps—the intentional kinds of naps, not the jet lagged kind where you crash in an airport before the next flight.

Slow travel is more of a mindset. Some say it’s also a form of rebellion. You are telling the world: “I could rush, but I won’t. I could do it all, but I’d rather sit here sipping something warm while my itinerary gathers dust in my laptop bag.” 

As long as there are children and grandchildren in the mix, we will likely continue to go at warp speed to do whatever is on the itinerary. Frequently for our family, however, that results in at least one trip to urgent care as part of our excursions. It’s all fun and games until someone cracks a rib or slices their foot on an oyster bed. 

As empty nesters, Rodney and I look forward to every family vacation we can manage, but we also look forward to embracing the art of slow travel in the future.

Summer vacation is here. Why not savor a slower pace? Bon voyage and don’t hurry back.