A friend told me recently that I tend to write things that no one but me will understand. I suppose it is ok if this turns out to be one of those things.
A year ago today, following several days of airports and delays ,I left the USA, not knowing at the time I would lose the thing I valued most in the world, but find so much of myself; old and new.
I’ve gone through phases on this trip. Phases where all I could think about was a girl back home. Phases where I thought I could never leave my hammock. Phases where all I wanted to do was head back to the USA and hide from the weird wide world. Phases where I wanted a job and phases where I was afraid of the prospect of ever needing to work again.
I have learned a lot about love. I have learned to simply love and not worry about whether I am loved in return. Now that I have figured it out, it seems strange when I see others who haven’t “got it” yet. It seems strange that it was ever a foreign concept.
I’ve learned to be happy with nothing more than silence. I have learned to relish the company of friends because once you know these things every stranger is just a friend waiting to happen. I have learned that new friends don’t replace the old ones.
I learned that it’s ok to be sad and that dying from a life well lived is a better thing than living forever in the shadow of fear or inadequacy.
I have learned how to communicate with people in many languages, but I still think the best way is a smile and a hug.
I don’t know what kind of anniversary this is, and I’m not even sure it is something to be celebrated. If something does get celebrated, though, I hope it is more the feeling I left in a persons heart than any time frame I managed to keep on the move. I hope it is a small ache, or a secret smile that someone will remember; not just today, but often and without fanfare.
To everyone who has been a part of this scary and marvelous year, I say, “Thank you.”