When you’re galloping forward, it’s hard to stop. And when I say stop, I don’t mean pause and take in the world around you, because that’s precisely what you’ve been doing as you consume every sight, sound, smell, taste, nuance, history, and present you can, constantly. No, I mean stop and step away from the moment. I mean plug in. I mean stop living your story and momentarily halt to tell it to others, or even to yourself.
Perhaps I’m a post-travel blogger. What can I say right now other than that I have seen and learned so much already? I have met wonderful people. I have stayed in their homes and ridden in their cars. I have always found a place to sleep. I have spoken multiple languages. I have been surrounded by good people, and I have been utterly alone with the trees and the sundews and the little frogs and the blueberries and the boggy water.
Right now, I don’t feel like conveying much. I’m still moving. Once this trip is over in a week, once I have slowed down, once I have properly processed everything that is calmly clamoring in my brain – I’ll tell. But right now I’m living. I don’t need to proclaim this fact for others to hear. I state it to myself simply, quietly: I’m alive.