My wife and I have so much fun when we travel and find

Hear the words of Eric Roberts: “My wife and I have so much fun when we travel and find anything… like stray cats and squirrels.” Though they seem simple, they are filled with hidden wisdom, for they speak of joy not in grand monuments or costly treasures, but in the small, living wonders that appear unexpectedly along the road. They remind us that true delight in life is not always in the great arrival, but in the humble discoveries we make together.

In this saying, Roberts reveals that the essence of travel is not only movement from one city to another, nor the pursuit of the world’s celebrated sights. It is the ability to find wonder in the overlooked, to marvel at a cat slinking through an alley or a squirrel darting through a park. For those who carry eyes of wonder, even the smallest encounter becomes a treasure. To share this joy with another—in his case, his wife—is to multiply it, to make the journey not just external but deeply shared.

The ancients knew this truth. Consider the story of Diogenes the Cynic, who scorned wealth and grandeur, yet found laughter and meaning in the simplest of things—a dog following him, a loaf of bread shared, a gesture of kindness. To him, joy was not purchased with gold, but discovered in the ordinary. Roberts echoes this same spirit: that a moment with a wandering cat may bring more happiness than the most luxurious banquet, for it awakens the heart’s sense of play and gratitude.

We may also recall the travels of St. Francis of Assisi, who, though he forsook wealth, found kinship with every creature he met—speaking to the birds, blessing the wolves, cherishing all living beings as brothers and sisters. Like Roberts delighting in stray cats and squirrels, Francis revealed that joy and reverence flow from seeing all life as wondrous. What others pass by as trivial, the awakened heart embraces as sacred.

The meaning here is not only about animals. It is about how one chooses to see. Many rush through life, seeking great spectacles, never noticing the quiet miracles at their feet. But the one who finds joy in small things—be it a squirrel on a branch or a chance meeting with a stranger—carries with him an inexhaustible source of happiness. Thus, Roberts reminds us that to travel with joy is not about what you find, but how you look.

The lesson, then, is clear: cultivate eyes that notice, hearts that delight, and spirits that share. When you travel, do not only seek the famous landmark, but pause for the hidden life of the place—the laughter of children, the play of animals, the quiet corners that speak of real living. Share these discoveries with your companions, for joy multiplies when given. In this way, every journey becomes rich, no matter how simple.

Practically, this means: slow down. Look for the small, unexpected moments. When you walk through a city, notice its creatures; when you stroll through a park, marvel at the ordinary. Take photos not only of the grand towers, but of the little lives that cross your path. And above all, share your delight with those who walk beside you, so that your journeys become tapestries of shared wonder.

Therefore, O travelers of life, remember the teaching of Eric Roberts. To find fun not in riches but in stray cats and humble squirrels is to have learned the secret of joy. For in every journey, it is not only the destination that matters, but the laughter, the companionship, and the eyes that can find wonder in all things, great or small.