Before You Wish To Travel The World

As a kid, whenever asked what I liked to do, I never hesitated to say, “traveling.” I’d spend hours watching Discovery Channel and reading tourism books, dreaming of faraway lands. By the time I was 8, I’d made setting foot on all 6 continents (Antarctica is a bit too cold) part of my bucket list.

I got what I asked for.

For the past 6 years I have been moving non-stop, and that doesn’t mean across town. I’m talking moving to different cities, states, countries, and continents. Culture shock has become a stranger to me. And just when I’m beginning to love this city, I’m leaving in 2 months. In 18 months, I will be moving again, God knows to where. (I’ve lost count too)

I first came across the word “vagabond” when I was 5 while watching The Lion King. Years passed before I understood its meaning.

Today I am a vagabond.

I wouldn’t take a moment back. Every place I’ve been has helped shaped the me today and gifted priceless memories. Furthermore, I know I’m lucky to have gathered all these experiences in my bucket called life.

A part of me can’t help but question where my home really is. Is it where my heart is? But my heart is inside me. I carry it with me wherever I go, keeping it from getting attached, because I know before long I will hit the road.

Be careful what you wish for, as the tradeoffs are hefty. Sometimes I kind of wanna miss a home, except “home” has become something so unreachable and abstract, so dimensionless and indefinable… If I got lost, where would I turn? Will I ever settle down when my feet are tired? Will I find a home when my young and vibrant years are over?

I don’t know; frankly I don't often think about it. Maybe I’ll take what I can get and be on my way, humming the forever tone that carries me across time and space, back to my innocent years:

 “It’s enough to make kings and vagabonds

Believe the very best…”