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My first term of university ended this week, which means that I could go home! Which is where I currently am, typing at my kitchen counter with the most delicious-smelling honeysuckle candle burning beside me. If this isn’t bliss, I’m not sure I can handle the real thing.
I was really excited to go home for the holidays because my brain was fried from finals and, let’s face it, coming home is a really wonderful thing. My parents and I decided on me taking a shuttle to Portland and them driving me home from there. This meant a lot of time riding in cars yesterday, but sadly there were no boys (if you get that reference, I will buy you a Christmas present.) Even though I was anxious to get home to my family and my own bed, I really enjoyed my time traveling. And that’s when it hit me: I am most content when I am traveling.
Now, it’s not the going to new places, or the excitement of arrival, it is the actual moving from place A to place B and everything inbetween that I like. There’s something about being on the road or in the air that I find soothing. My worries evade me. I am truly content.
Upon further thought, I’ve figured that this comes from my childhood. If you are only just now joining the Enthusiast gang, then I’ll inform you on some background information. Since I was young I have moved several times (more than one hand) and until about 6 years ago, had never stayed anywhere longer than three years. Moving on, whenever we moved there was always a lengthy drive inbetween locations. From our house in California to our house in Colorado it was at least a 14 hour drive. That’s right, 14 hours in a car with your younger brother, parents, and a dog, with every available inch of the car crowded with various home items. Those are the vivid memories of my childhood.
However, I don’t think I ever really minded being cramped in the car. Being on the open road is something I’ve always enjoyed. Actually, just being in a car is something I’ve always enjoyed. Earlier this year I was sitting outside Wal-mart, selling raffle tickets for the walk-a-thon my friends and I put on. We had finished for the day and were packing up, placing the table we had used into their truck. I was squished in the backseat with the table and my friend Alex turns around and asks, “Are you alright sitting back there?” I said I was fine, because it was something I was more than used to. As long as I was in a car I didn’t mind being squished by a table. It’s weird, you don’t have to tell me.
And so, yesterday, as I spent three hours in a shuttle with horrid Wi-Fi and my toes freezing, I didn’t complain. I sat with my headphones in staring out the window, relaxing with the beats of The Strokes and the endless landscape. There’s something about it that makes my brain blank, like every thought I’ve ever had has been erased. I’ve always been someone who overthinks and will die of her brain exploding from thought. But when I’m traveling all of that disappears.
This extends to flying. In the last two years, I have flown a lot. I became very familiar with airports and it kind of scared me, as I didn’t fly for the first thirteen years of my life. While most people get anxious when they fly, especially during take-off and landing, I rather enjoy flying. Last winter my mother, brother, and I were going to Portland. It was snowing and the weather was quite bad. Halfway through our flight the plane was having some troubles and it wasn’t looking too good for the passengers. My mother, who is not a strong flyer, was freaking out. My brother was trying very hard not to freak out. Me? I was sitting calmly in my seat, enjoying being in the air too much to worry myself with the problems of the plane. Yeah, I did get kind of freaked out when the plane dipped, but we landed perfectly safe, so I felt silly for fearing for my safety. But I did tell the story like I survived a war. Because, let’s face it, if your plane has troubles you need to have a good story.
Traveling is my solace. Whether I’m on land or in the air, in a car or on a shuttle, traveling for twenty minutes or for 14 hours, it’s the one place where I am truly content. Yeah, I feel content when I’ve finished for the term or when there are Christmas cookies in the oven, but they in no way compare to traveling. That is my safe haven.
And now my question for you: Where do you feel most content? Is it when you are surrounded by all your loved ones? When you’ve gone for a run? Maybe when you have finished reading your favorite book for the nineteenth time? Leave a comment down below stating when you feel most content. I’m really curious to know.
As always, enjoy your weekend. I’m going to have a review post up tomorrow (highly requested). Meanwhile, make sure to click the links at the beginning of this post to enter my giveaway and check out my Instagram challenge! I love all my little Enthusiasts and I’ll talk to you soon!
Stay classy, Internet,
P.S. Remember to request/share any holiday recipes! I’ve got lots of holiday parties to attend, and I want to try something new and share what I make with you!
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