I woke up this morning to realize it had happened. I was comfortable, once again, in slightly soiled clothes, with my hair my twisted back and the same comfy flip flops that have trudged through rain and shit alike. I was sun-kissed, and balanced, and happy. For the moment.
I don’t know when exactly it happened, and I had spent the past 12 days convincing myself it never would. And I almost believed me. But somewhere between the soft sound of slapping tortillas in the morning and the deluge of rain at night, it found me. Or I found me.
Perhaps the comfort slipped in right behind the deadline, knowing finally that I would leave I could enjoy the prospect of being here to begin with. I’m sure that was a huge part of it. Or perhaps the missing ingredient was in a stiff drink, a long table, and shared food with fellow travelers. That recipe rarely fails. Then again, maybe it was just time. It’s played this trick on me before, and I fall for it every time. For the tumultuous transition, for the tearing of myself from the comfort and luxury and security of home, for the horrifying prospect of being changed and coming back slightly different than I left.
But that’s exactly why I go, so why it terrifies me I don’t know. And in some way the change that permeates is more of a return to my truest self then a departure from anything that filled the interim between adventures.
Regardless, it’s happened, it’s here, and now it’s nearly time to go – a reality that is my own doing. And that’s fine, that’s probably why it happened at all. The trip has been a strange one, and not my typical trip but maybe exactly what I expected. It’s been cathartic. And revealing. And trying. All of which are good things. But mostly it’s been an exhausting whirlwind of emotion. Some was expected and some wasn’t but I’m ready for a rest.
The guilt of leaving early lingers. The sense of obligation and disappointment is permeable. I am better than this, and yet this is exactly who I am. In this moment. I hate to do anything other than surpass expectations, but I’ve justified the departure in so many ways. They got what they asked for in less time than expected. I could do more, but I don’t have to. And I want to be home. Or rather I want home here, but in the absence of that, I want to be home. And that should be reason enough, but it never quite is. It doesn’t always sit right. Feels like it has be defended. Feels like I’ve been defeated. But alas I’m no bigger than that.
I suppose in the end, life is short and it sneaks up on you when you don’t even see it coming – when you spend a lot of energy telling yourself it won’t. So you win some, you lose some. And you learn. You learn where your limits lie, where your security falls, where a tangible inner peace can be found. Suspended between the turmoil of purpose and perspective, you learn what you need and what you want and what you can handle. And sometimes you won’t like the answer. I hated this one. And sometimes you’ll wonder what happened to you at all, I’ve felt lost for some time now. But all you can do is ride it out and see what happens. Live your way into the answer. Source some profound patience. Because it will happen. It has to and it always does. And, once again, it just did.