It’s 9 a.m. on a Saturday and I don’t feel like getting out of bed. Music playing, muffin by my side, not a care in the world.
I move out of my apartment in three weeks. A new season is in store. Come January I’ll be leading a World Race squad for four months. Cold showers, rice bellies and living out of a backpack will become my lifestyle once again. Oh joy.
I really am excited – I know it’s’ exactly what I’m supposed to do…I can feel it. I would say I’ve never felt as sure about anything in my life, but that would be a lie. I felt that sure about leading my Nicaragua team and now I feel it again with this World Race squad. It’s a good feeling.
Amidst my excitement and confidence is a generous dose of sorrow. I love my life here more than I ever thought possible, and by leaving it all behind I fear I won’t get it back. I’ll be coming back, but I know it won’t be the same. It never is. Change is the only constant…sigh.
So I have three weeks. Three more weeks to bask in the beauty of it all. These three weeks are going to fly by – they always do. Ever since I turned 25 I can’t stop talking about how fast time is going. Thinking this way makes me feel super old, because it reminds me of my mom who says things like, “I’ll blink and then a decade is gone.” Ummmm….no thanks? I was in the car with my parents the other day when, in conversation, my dad said, “We’re 56” to which my mom replied, “No, Rich, we’re 55.” I laughed, but really I wanted to cry because once when I was 24 I thought I was 23…
NO ONE IS SAFE. We all get old.
Can’t my niece and nephew just stay this size forever? Please?
Anyway. I should probably get out of bed now…I don’t want to waste what little time I’ve been given. I’ll leave you on this note:
(…makes me laugh every time. Especially .18)