It’s not yet dawn, but as usual, sleep is fitful the night before I travel. Not that there’ve been that many trips in the 60 years since I first left home, or at least so it seems now. Yet each one feels wrenching.

Did I pack everything? What have I forgotten? Will I wish I’d brought a different book?

We –partner Don and I – will be flagging down the Concord bus in a few hours, probably standing in the rain, for the trip to Logan and then onto a plane bound for Basel, Switzerland, via a layover in Paris.

Paris! Of course, we’ll only see the airport, but now we can say, at least to each other, that we’ve been to France. By tomorrow at about this time (if I’ve got the hours right) we’ll be on a boat – a cruise ship – to go down the Rhine River.

In the five years since we met, both fragile and still grieving the wrenching loss of our spouses after 50 years of marriage (he a few more and me a few less), we’ve been to Switzerland, Italy, and London, as well as several trips to Florida.

We’ve navigated the Italian rail system and the London tube together, to say nothing of America’s airports. We’ve sat for hours on the tarmac while a blizzard raged and slept on the floor in Newark airport. We’ve ended up flying into Bangor when we’d left our vehicle in Portland. Our luggage hasn’t always arrived with us.

And, as he often reminds us both, “we’re freaking old.”

Yet we’re doing it again, setting off for foreign countries, Germany this time, a river cruise on the Rhine, ending in Amsterdam before flying home a week from tomorrow. And all we have to do, apparently, is show up at Logan this afternoon, to get on the plane.

Everything will be done for us. We’ve picked out our stateroom from a plan of the ship, figured out which “excursions” we’ll go on (a castle, a Mercedes Benz plant, and something to do with beer), even have special stickers to put on our jackets so we can’t wander off and get lost.

After two fifth floor walk-ups in Italy, snow in Rome, and racing across the Milan train station (he thought he’d drop dead trying to keep up with me), this cruise sounds delightful.

Even though going on a cruise is – was –the last thing on my bucket list, if that is, I had one. That non-existent list of stuff to do before I die is simply to do again what I’ve done over and over: watch autumn take over summer, live day to day through whatever winter throws at us, and plant the garden again in the spring.

Weave some rugs, knit a lot, read books, eat meals with friends, watch my family grow up around me.

But to the surprise of both Don and I, after profound loss there can be another chapter. I’m not sure whose idea this cruise was –  his, I think. Fair enough, as our first trip, to Italy, was mine.

And even though we are freaking old, which means that in our five years together we’ve navigated more than transportation systems. We try to avoid the “organ recital”, but a brief rundown of our ailments includes a heart attack, knee surgery, a stroke, assorted skin lesions, failing eyesight, arthritic joints, diabetes, and waning memories. Boring stuff, but we’re both still vertical and enjoy a good meal.

So, wish us luck. We’ll be home by a week from tomorrow.

Lincolnville Historical Society

Last week’s Open House at the Beach Schoolhouse was a great success with some 120 people stopping by and seeing the progress that’s been made in restoring the old building. There’s still plenty to do this winter, but by spring we hope to have a proper “grand opening”.