I actually really enjoy taking trips. Of course, packing up the car isn’t always the most fun, nor is scrambling to remember all the little things to make the trip more comfortable, nor is fighting to get out of the city. But then… once you’re out of the city limits, away from the traffic and the stop lights, everything gets nicer. The car settles into a steady pace, the air is fresher, and the world seems to unfurl before us as the horizon expands. I watch the passing countryside change, from villages to mountains to canyons to valleys that stretch wide, inviting families and clans to live in completely isolated places. Thriving villages appear in these hollows and they fascinate me. I love imagining the life people lead in these little enclaves. They are but a blink of an eye for a car-traveler like me, yet for them life is significant.
I love imagining life in the individual settings as we pass through. What is that woman thinking as she washes her carpet on the street? How long will that boy spend on the back of that horse and where will he go? What does the inside of that house look like and what stories and jokes would we hear if we sat on some pillows and listened, while drinking tea? What TV shows do they like; does that kid with the ball cap even know who the Packers are? If we told them would they say: what is a “packer”?
The thrill of getting a taste of a different life usually wears off, and I am ready to go back to my things, my home, and my comfort-zone. Impatience sets in to get home. And no matter where in the world home is, at this point in the journey there is no sweeter feeling than thinking about my own bed, my own coffee mug brimming with coffee made just the way I like it, and life back in my “normal” zone. My impatience really hits its peak on homeward drives, since I am so close, almost there, yet still not home.
Life is an adventure of walking a mile in someone else’s shoes. I treasure those footsteps. I also appreciate being able to put my own shoes back on.