These days, I have been obsessed with the thought of travel. Maybe it was all the traveling earlier this year, to Miami, to England, to Las Vegas, and to Israel. All those places, in the span of two months!
I have caught the travel bug–as much as I love my home and as easily as I get exhausted these days, every few days I have an itch to fly somewhere and be an anonymous observer of life–other lives. I find incredible joy in googling exotic locales, and flipping through old travel guides, aging and gathering dust on my bookshelves. Sometimes, I even go as far as pricing flights to these locales, abandoning the process right before clicking “buy.”
Still, I dream and ponder.
Hawaii, maybe–I’ve never been. Or New York City–that trip is way long overdue. I’ll be heading to Europe this summer, and it can’t be soon enough! Or Korea and Japan–I have fantasies about spending months in those two countries, writing in a secluded apartment somewhere and spending lackadaisical days with my darling hubby.
When I think about travel, about alighting in another place, I feel relief.