I’m leaving in one week for Europe. I’m going to spend six weeks travelling from country to country with a backpack on my back, side by side a soul mate I haven’t seen in just under a year and a half. Right now I’m at the cottage, spending long hours on the hammock beneath the sunshine and blue sky and I’m listening to the sound of boats going by and the breeze rustling through the trees. Part of me, thinks that it hasn’t hit me that I’m leaving to go travel for a little while. I think it will hit me on the plane, or when I get to London, or maybe I’ll be living as though I’m in a daydream for a little while. At the same time, I’m excited. I can’t wait to see my friend, I can’t wait to have her by my side once again. And then I am nervous, slightly, underwhelmingly at times, and overwhelmingly at others. I’m nervous because I have a very real allergy with very real dangers and those dangers become increased the farther I get from home. I’m nervous because most people mention pick-pocketers and being careful around strangers before they tell me to have a good time. But more than anything I’m nervous because I don’t know what it’s going to be like to come out the other side. I’ve never travelled before, not really at least, not like this. And so far life has consistently shown me that anytime you leave for a decent period of time you come back a little bit different, you’ve grown a small amount at the very least, and often in a direction you didn’t originally predict. I’m afraid of what direction I’ll grow, and I know that may seem silly, but my growth in the past has brought me towards big decisions and sometimes I still feel like I’m catching up to those. I am young and I am terrified of allotted vacation days and limited flexibility, but sometimes I have a hard time with inconsistency and change. At my best, I am everything I am, accompanied by its opposite.  I wake up everyday and flip-flop back and forth between my desires and I don’t mind it one bit and it drives me crazy at the same time. When people ask me what my plan is when I go back to Vancouver I tell them with a half-smirk that I am going back jobless and homeless and I’ll let you know where it goes from there but I certainly don’t have a clue right now. This is how I want it to be, despite my knack for concern. I am half-heartedly hoping that Europe opens some kind of door for me – maybe even just a window – a glimpse into an idea that I might have that leads me down some kind of road I wouldn’t get to if it wasn’t for travelling. I’m hoping for that, but whatever that is makes me just as nervous. Because after Europe I can do anything, and anything is big, daunting, hopeful and alluring. Anything scares the crap out of me and makes me excited all at the same time. I don’t know what’s going to happen in Europe, I don’t know if a window will be opened for me, and I certainly have no idea how it’s going to feel and what I’m going to do when I come back but I can tell you with confidence that I am incredibly nervous, and beyond excited, for whatever this near future holds.