It’s a very curious thing, to see the end of something. To know when the conclusion will happen.
I was hearing wisps of my dream life from a man with salt and pepper hair and an air of resiliency, who had burned out his dreams long ago, as we sat there in that corporate red vinyl booth, thousands of miles from either of our homes.
As I reluctantly went to sleep that night, still wishing I could stay glued to my laptop in that sort of over-stimulated, desperate, sleep-deprived way, my mind wound down with fantasies of my globe-trotting, sunrise-waking, mountain-climbing, tripod-toting self and I swear happiness radiated from me for months afterward.
It has been empowering, and incredibly appropriate in my opinion, to sift through my old photos and posts and recall the life I had, some of the people who were in it that do not have a place anymore, and to hit the delete button.
Of course my first big move at 25 won’t be off to college in a neighboring city or state, it won’t be a job transfer to the other side of the country, no… No, I’ve chosen to fly the nest and land in a country located in a different hemisphere no less than 8,000 miles away.