“To move, to breathe, to fly, to float,
To gain all while you give,
To roam the roads of lands remote,
To travel is to live.”
– Hans Christian Andersen
I miss many things from my old life. I miss my white 1991 VW Vanagon stored in a garage, my circle of friends, and my garden. I miss my library, my favorite Vietnamese restaurant, and the kitty cat Smitty. I miss Amazon free two-day shipping, mail that arrives, and stores that pick up their phones. I miss my collection of books, my cast iron pans, and the west coast time zone. I miss a favorite sweater I forgot to pack, my Ugg boots and central heating.
But after living in Portugal for only four and a half months there are already many things I’d miss if I wasn’t here.
This wanderlust is a blessing and a curse. Like salmon swimming upstream to their natal river, I have no choice but to heed the call. The salmon have something on me though. They know where they’re going, and why.
There’s a force deeper than me that pushes me out of my homes, towards other places, beyond my comfort zone, where there’s so much left unmapped and undiscovered inside of me. I drank the elixir that promised a bigger life, and these moves, this questing, this exploration keeps me thirsty for more.
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