I have been traveling.
For over a month, I spent most of my days in airports, Airbnbs, restaurants, trains, and Ubers. I’ve done a lot of people-watching, too. And I have loved every minute of it.
Even when Japan Airlines poisoned me on my LAX to HND flight. I’ll leave that for another story, though.
I am now back where I started, India, and it’s beginning to feel like home. When my feet touched the ground at Delhi airport after 24 hours in the air, I was overwhelmed by a familiar smell, a mixture of incense and masala. If you know, you know. The colors looked more vibrant than anywhere my eyes had rested lately. And an invisible soft embrace took hold of me, carrying me to where I am now, by the banks of the river Ganga.
What does peace feel like to you? To me is a feeling of expansion in the heart that lasts more than a minute, like placing a warm water bottle on the chest during a cold winter night.
A part of me wants to settle, place my aging body somewhere, and grow roots. And then there is another me who shakes her head like to get rid of something between the ears and says, what are you talking about?
Traveling runs in my veins. I fell in love with it many years ago when I realized it was my reason to escape reality. The more I was in the air, the more my anxiety decreased — out of sight, out of mind, kinda feeling. Of course, this was all an illusion because what we don’t deal with eventually comes back a million times stronger, like a dragon’s spouting fire from its wide-open mouth.
Living out of a suitcase helps me remember that I don’t need much. And neither do you. Although I do love fast internet and a nice bottle of Shiraz.
And then there is the Jet-Lag creeping in like a stalker in the DM. Why is it that it gets more invasive at night? Why does it not get to rest when your eyebrows get heavy and the head needs a break? Instead, it decides to play loops in the brain like a hamster gone crazy in its going nowhere wheel.
All the hidden stuff comes up to stare you in the eyes, like Bambi blinded by headlights when the moon is sleeping. Gimme a break, will you?
No, I don’t want to go back to when the kids were small. Relive that part of motherhood? No thanks.
And I don’t want to step into the future either because the truth is I’m living the life I had envisioned for myself when I was in another part of the world, accomplishing the tasks I was supposed to like on autopilot.
I manifested it.
I pulled it towards me like a life raft.
Now I’m in it. Arms stretched in the middle of this king-size bed that’s too big for one person. White cotton sheets wrapped around my curled-up body. Computer on my lap. And all I want is to rest here in this fleeting moment of luxury.
Life is happening right now. Slow down, or you may miss it.
Thanks for reading.