I’m leaving on a jet plane.
It amazes me the number of people that quote Elizabeth Gilbert back to me as soon as I tell them I’m going overseas by myself (I bet the blokes don’t get that). But this isn’t going to be a self-indulgent, self-reflective eating, praying or loving trip (well maybe just the eating part). I actually want to see things, and do things and simpering about wringing my hands lacks any appeal. Yes there was a catalyst (I’m sure there always is) but that is only part of this story.
I can’t really sum up how I feel except to say that it’s a bit like I am moving outside myself, maybe floating, neither here nor there. I am leaving my family, my friends, my city and my work behind. This is my identity – for the next two months I can be changeable/ whomever/ different/ me. This is pretty seductive.
When people ask what I am looking forward to most it is this, unequivocally: not knowing what each day will bring.
This to me is the most amazing thing.