It’s been five years since I packed everything I own into a hiking backpack, stowed two-year-old Luna in her carrier, and boarded a plane and then train for Edinburgh, Scotland, the first stop of my indefinite travels.
Since then, I’ve taken wild motorcycle rides down Croatia’s Dalmatian coast, eaten in Italy’s top restaurant, hiked above the tree-line in the Swiss Alps, cycled across France, written 11 (nearly 12) books, and worked against a hundred different, interesting backdrops.
In that time, it’s come to feel so normal. So much a part of my life. So much a part of my identity. Not the travel, necessarily, but the freedom. The ability to pick up and go live near my best friend for four months, to spend a summer in crazy-affordable Bosnia, to get residency and live for two years in Switzerland. The freedom to choose my schedule. To work part time. To prioritize my health above the usual US go-go-go.
It’s become so normal to me that earlier this week, when someone asked me to tell them something weird about my life, full-time travel didn’t even come to mind. It took me a minute to come up with an answer. Because what might seem weird to other people is simply my life, my day-to-day reality.
So I suppose it’s a good thing I have anniversaries. A day that reminds me to look back at how far the journey has taken me. How much my life, my perspective, my dreams, my work…they’ve all changed.
A day to remember how grateful I am that I can live this way. How grateful I am that I took that leap. How grateful I am for the thousand ways my life has changed along the way.
And, dear readers, how grateful I am to you. Because my community has been an encouragement, a driving force, and a great comfort to me along the way.