Jan 18, 2019
This is the last night in this cozy bed, in a familiar setting. I have dreams of waiting. They border on anxiety. Manic really. Strange restaurants with strange people. Lost luggage. Lost time.
Nerves!
In this blog, honesty reigns. And with this trip, maybe because I am older now or because I am taking a big chance with my heart on this one, I am honestly nervous about what lies ahead.
No its not just excitement. It is the frazzled kind of nerve-racking "you better get your shit together and your head on straight for this one" kind of near-panic.
The inner voice screams: do I have what it takes to do it? Will this just be another waste of time? Another flitter-flattering about?
Or will I get down to it now? You know, finish the novel for God sake. Take my gifts seriously. Come out of hiding.
For that is why I am positioning myself in some obscure piece of seacoast in what I have always thought of as a rather bland piece of property, right? Not as exotic as Greece or even France. Its England.
Hastings, UK. What will you have to say for yourself? What will you have to teach me in your sweeping valleys and inclement weather? In your castle ruins and ghosts of battles past? In your dark pubs and fish and chips? Truth is, I am just a California girl. I've been here and there, but I really know nothing except the valley.
And my own preconceived notions.
This trip S and I are taking is begging us to put all that aside. That is, what we think we know about just about everything.
So, in case you are just tuning in here, we are going to the UK folks! Jolly, merry, cold as you-know-what, steaming over with change, waking up (like everyone else) England. And at the risk of sounding overly dramatic, I don't think we will return as the same two people who left with too many pairs of shoes and electronic devices.
When we return, it will be closing in on summer. The weather will have turned, flowers will be blooming and short sleeves will be flaunted with wild abandon even in Denver.
Where will we be then? Having just gotten off the boat of a wild adventure, S and I?
I have no idea. In the meantime, in 48 hours, off we go. I can almost feel the tweed on my skin, smell the salty presence of seafaring vessels, hear the heave-ho of fishermen near the pier bringing in their catch in the brisk morning.
And London. Don't get me started on the fantasies about adventuring in that place.
Hastings UK and points surrounding, here we come. America...stay true for me. Steer the course. Toe the line. Keep the momentum. Bring in the big fish and change the course of our collective cosmology.
As for me, I go forward and at the same time I go back. Back to who I truly am.
I observe. I travel. I transform.
Needless to say, my friends, this little love blog may turn more into a travelogue over the course of the next few months. Insert serious LOL here.
Then again, maybe not. For isn't our first love always to experience new things? And to embrace the adventures of life wherever they may be hiding?
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