In Return
This morning I flew from New York to my home in Charleston, South Carolina.
The short flight closed a three-week journey to Portugal, a trip designed to commemorate my 40th birthday. It was the trip of a lifetime. I have so many stories to share, but I’m not even sure where to begin.
Let me just skip to the end and say it was a hella good time.
And it all felt utterly selfish.
I have young kids to take care of, clients to respond to, a mortgage and responsibilities and houseplants and hopefully many more years of living that demands frugality now. As a mother, a wife, and a woman, I have felt such a sting of selfishness in doing this spectacular thing. I have given myself 101 reasons to not go. The older I get, the more I’m inclined to play it safe. And if I’m completely honest, the fear and worry and anxiety of aforementioned roles and identities have created a bit of paralysis lately. (More on that later.)
Ultimately, I decided to go on this trip. I stepped outside of my comfort zone and I did for no other reason than I wanted to. I desired to go and the opportunity was there and I made a plan and I figured it out and I have supportive community that allowed me to be away from kids and plants and pets and life and I did the thing and it was one of the best things I’ve ever done.
At this delightfully young age of 40, I’ve honed in on my “why”: I want the big life. I want to call my shots and go for them. I want to shed the layers of anxiety and fear and restlessness and regret and doubt and I want to take all the energy required to hold those burdens and instead use it to make great shit happen.
Coming home today is bittersweet. Of course it is—three weeks eating and drinking and flowing your way through western Europe is a delightful way to live. I keep closing my eyes and pulling my palms together at my heart, hoping I can physically grab hold of the vivid colors and flavors and vastness of emotion experienced on this trip.
I’ve had much time to think. I’ve met many interesting people. I’ve collected all kinds of stories and memories and I want to remember them. I want to write them down. There’s a lot more to say, and this is a good start.
A vida é boa.
