In 2016, at the end of a 25 year marriage, I did something brand new. I booked myself a tour to Spain, Portugal and Morocco. It was a baby step getting on a tour bus with a gaggle of strangers, but it took as much faith, maybe more, than Neil Armstrong stepping onto the face of the moon.
It was worth every nerve.
So when I sold my house in 2017, I packed everything I felt was worth owning into a storage unit and spent the summer in Europe. I made plans to fly into Madrid and out of London, bought a Eurail Pass and hit the Continent. It was a daily adventure in deciding where I wanted to be, each morning waking to the possibility to leaving or staying as I felt in that moment. My strongest memories are built upon the recurring theme of walking down a paved/cobblestone/dirt sidewalk/street/road and thinking "I am so happy!"
Now, it's 2019 and I am 11 hours away from getting on a flight yet again. Now don't get me wrong, there have been lots of flights in between (Canada, Colorado, Mexico City, Cuba, California, New York, Washington, and more) but none that I consider an Epic Adventure. Not like this one.
I can tell, because I have butterflies. I have packed and repacked every day since I submitted semester end grades five days ago. I have a plan that includes flights, ferries, trains, buses and bikes. I have hotels and hostels and hang outs and all the clothes I need that fit into a pack back. I have paid my bills, checked my insurance, texted my kids, settled the dogs, and arranged to have my apartment cleaned while I'm gone.
Every trip is a fresh start. I know I won't return the person I was when I left. I will be richer, wiser, and my worldview will be wider. I will have stories and songs and pictures and probably an extra pound or two. But I what I value more than anything is the new way I will see my life with a brand new B-roll running as background in my being.
"Do Epic Shit" was the theme of my 60th Birthday Party 18 months ago. Never doubt I will. Never doubt I am.
Here I go......
