You feel the O2 rush into your lungs as the sunlight peaks through the windows of your hostel. The cool sweet air filled with the scents of other travelers, a welcoming sort of thing when you awaken in a far off place. There’s a sort of promise to it.
A grin creeps across your face as you stretch away the night, realizing that every moment of your life has led up to this one. That in this divine moment you’re where you had dreamed about for what seemed like an age. You’ve made it.
You know not what sort of adventure your day holds. You may have an idea sure, but the cobble street you’ll trod down, or the woman you’ll fall in love with in a single glance are still events that remain to be had. And when you’ve arrived at those moments you realize that you are entirely unprepared for them. That there was no amount of preparation you could’ve done in advance to appreciate the sheer beauty of the unexplainable. It almost hurts.
Call me a dreamer, a helpless romantic, or a fool. I’m in my element, amongst friends who’s names I have yet to learn, but I’m not alone in my passions. I see their smiles. That familiar glint in their eyes as I know what’s going through their head. I almost want to ask them what they think, if it was all they’d hoped. If only I could grab their hand and call down the rain, existing only there. But then I step back, refill my lungs, and follow my feet.
I am a traveler. A wondering learner. Happy in this moment, never searching for the next.
A twenty something with a world to see.
I am alive.