I just spent a month in Germany, 100% courtesy of my in-laws (who currently reside there). Now I am back in Texas, scrambling to prepare my kids for the new school year.
I’m sure there will be multiple posts in the not-too-distant future about that trip. It was wonderful. We traveled near and far within that beautiful country…
…and for a while, the wanderer within exulted and leaped and laughed. She is — I am — still riding the after-effects of so long away, so many adventures.
The problem, as ever, with temporarily slaking that thirst for otherwheres is that it is damned difficult to get back to the everyday grind of normal life when you return.
The more I travel, the less I fit. Does that make sense? It’s like my spirit expands, unfurls wings that only grow with time…and then it’s really hard to cram myself completely back into the box that is normal life at home.
Don’t misunderstand me; I love my life. It’s not perfect, but it works. I’m not unhappy. But I understand more and more why some people never seem to be fully at rest, why the dreamers and wanderers in particular always seem to be partly here and partly somethere, either past- or hopeful future-wheres.
My size-eleven feet may be under my desk, but half my soul is still flitting between Bavaria and the Black Forest.
So it is, every time.