How interested would you be in, about a year from now, taking 6 months to a year off your life to travel and work around the world with me?
I hit send, bit my lip, and copied the message text. I pasted the text and sent it off to a second friend who I knew would read it without thinking it was a joke and consider my proposition. Then I sat back and waited.
I’m three weeks away from my next international adventure.
Back in March, two significant things happened to me through my Tuesday night dinners. The first was two familiar faces said their final farewells and packed up their lives bound for Costa Rica. The second was a vaguely familiar face reappeared and we went out to brunch, where she regaled me of stories of France and New Zealand and dreams and just how she made it happen.
The itch in my soul is getting harder and harder to satiate.
I broached the idea with my mom recently, and I was rather surprised that when I talked about buying one-way tickets and meandering around the globe without a plan she didn’t blanch. Rather, she started suggesting people to talk to, wondering if I could sell my mattress, agreeing to let me store my car at their farm when I was out of the country.
I’m 25 this year.
I want to look back on my 20s with no regrets.
I feel like I’ve done well so far.
Adding stamps to my passport. Spending dozens of evenings sipping a brew with a stranger, learning new stories. Ending relationships and work environments that didn’t bring me joy.
I check in with myself every once in a while. “If you were to die on the drive home, would you be upset at ending life here?” I keep answering no. I think the decisions I’ve made have been beneficial – even deciding first to apply for a second round of a bachelor’s degree, then turning down the acceptance.
This is my natural next step. The one that makes my heart feel as alive as swing dancing does. The fear, the joy, the beauty of the unknown. It scares me half to death. Nothing is logical about doing this.
But I’m going.
Sometime in 2017, I’m going to wrap up my life and go. Alone for most of it, probably.
But if you want to tag along for part of it… come with. Weave stories with me. Ask questions with me. Get lost and sleep on the streets with me. Work bizarre gigs with me. Learn languages with me. Taste new foods with me. Cry with me. Laugh with me. Stretch yourself with me.
You won’t ever fit into your old self again.
You’ll have to find a new way of being again.
But do it.
Do it with me.