For decades, my nan has travelled each year to see her sister on her birthday. It isn’t dramatic, it’s simply what she does. There’s no big announcement or fuss around it – just a quiet, consistent act of love that has become a lifelong tradition. 

Love, to her, means showing up. No matter the circumstances, no matter how much time has passed, she has always made that journey. It’s something she’s never questioned, just something that matters deeply to her. 

Aunty Mavis now lives with macular degeneration, and travel for my nan has become much harder as she has become older. What was once a straightforward and even enjoyable trip now comes with challenges, uncertainty, and physical strain. The boat journey that was once manageable is now exhausting and unpredictable, often taking far more out of her than it used to. 

Yet the desire to sit together, hold hands, and share stories from nearly a century of shared life remains as strong as ever. When they are together, time seems to slow down. They talk, laugh, reminisce, and reconnect in a way that only sisters can, especially after so many years of shared experiences. 

Their bond has lasted through war, change, loss, and joy. They’ve seen the world transform around them, lived through moments that shaped generations, and supported each other through every chapter of life. Very few relationships endure that long, and even fewer remain as strong and unwavering. 

Winning flights for a year would mean their tradition doesn’t have to end because the journey is too difficult. It would take away one of the biggest barriers keeping them apart and allow them to continue something that has defined their relationship for so long. 

It would mean that love can keep travelling, and after almost a century of sisterhood, that feels like something truly worth supporting. It’s not just about a journey – it’s about preserving a connection, a ritual, and a lifetime of memories that still deserve to be added to. 

Love is in the air.