April 29th what a beautiful ring it has to it.
Early this week I had a sleepover with a girl friend and we laughed at the idea that I was planning on getting married in a year. She told me, "I am so glad you aren't getting married."
A year ago I was eager to marry this boy.
A year from today, I was eager to walk down the isle.
Oh how time is funny.
Here I am. A twenty-something embarking on this new chapter in my life. A year ago if you told me that I would be moving to Cambodia for several months I would have laughed with an ache in my heart longing for the opportunity but never believing it would actually happen.
I think it was Frank O'Hara who said, "Each time my heart is broken it makes me feel more adventurous." I guess the only way I know how to mend my heart is by taking all of the broken pieces and giving them away to different parts of the world. Maybe it is because I am optimistic that they will make light of those fragmented pieces. I know I sure as hell want to, but I don't know how to do it myself.
As I prepare colour coded lists of things to duffle bag, things going into my backpack and the last minute things to buy I keep whispering to myself, "Pack light. Just breathe and pack light."
It isn't even the comforts of home that I am so desperate to bring with me. Its all of the heavy stuff-
My broken heart and how I should claim this to be my moment of freedom before settling down. Only, this heart break only brings me back to my first heart break at seventeen years old.
That heart break is accompanied with the fact that at times I can be a really shitty daughter, friend and sister.
And that comes with the package deal of wondering if I am selfish for leaving.
I use to always romanticize the possibility leaving.
When I came home from South Africa in January of 2013, I always told myself given the opportunity to leave again I would take it with no question and no opinions from others. I'm convinced I was meant to chase the sun without apologies.
But leaving, I am starting to realize is not as easy of a process as I always hoped it would be.
As I considered leaving, I asked loved ones if they would forgive me for missing out on this and that. All along, I should have been asking myself, would forgive myself for all of the monumental moments I would be missing? Then my next question would be, if I allowed myself to be so paralyzed in being scared that I would miss out, how would my heart ever grow to appreciate the moments I am apart of and appreciate my loved ones more?
Leaving isn't as easy as I would imagined it.
Packing isn't as easy as I would imagined it.
Tonight it feels as if a lot is weighing me down.
But for one to travel far, one must pack light.
