My mother used to say that every time we pulled in the driveway from a drive that took more than an hour.
We’re home, safe and sound… unwinding… transitioning… reviewing and recalling… analyzing… reconnecting…
I have too much on my mind to write it all in one post, so I’ll have to create some themes and figure out what’s worth writing and/or what I need to write about.
It’s a lot. It was a big weekend. I feel discombobulated. I feel shaken and stirred. I feel like someone pulled the rug out from underneath my feet, and even though the hardwood floor is beautiful and not at all a bad place to be, it feels different.
Travel isn’t just about seeing different places or putting miles on the car. It’s a journey for the soul as much as any other body part. It’s driving away from the safety and comfort of the home zone, and exploring everything new and different… and sometimes, very uncomfortable. It’s being vulnerable to the unknown and open to adventures of all sorts. It’s coming back home after all of that and reconnecting to life in a different way – with new information and experiences and ideas.
Travel changes me forever.