I love to travel. In any way, shape or form, I love going places different from where I live for any reason at all. I always joke with The Husband that I have a gypsy soul because I get cranky if I stay in one place too long. I especially love traveling alone. When I’m alone, I get to be whomever I choose to be in the city du jour.
I’ve always loved it, but especially after kids I began to relish my time away. Traveling is the time where I can literally feel Mom Cris slide off my body and Regular Cris slide back on. Usually, somewhere around 30 miles from home I feel a piece of myself return that I have longed for since 2002. The Girl that was so sure of her decisions beacusewent to the gym and actually made appointments for haircuts. The Girl who had a glass of wine with friends on a random Wednesday. The Girl who did what she wanted when she wanted and mostly didn’t have to worry about anyone else. I miss that girl and I usually jump right back into her high heels when I travel.
This trip has been different. Don’t get me wrong, I still felt about ten pounds lighter somewhere around the Delaware Memorial Bridge. There is still a spring in my step as I go from activity to activity whenever I darn well please (or at least when my school schedule tells me to). But for some reason this time I can’t fully immerse myself in the current world and still have one fingertip back at home no matter what I am doing here.
I’m not sure if it is because it’s during the school year and so my kids are more spread out than usual. I often go places in the summer where I can get one person to come and take care of the kids until their dad gets home. In the past, I’ve worked for myself so I can create the schedule I need for my time away. Simple stuff. This time, there were more moving parts. With a boss and a blog, kids and sports and dogs and the house sale to manage, it was almost more work to get here than it is to be here and I’m in class from 8-6 every day!
It is like somehow, with all of the roles I play, I couldn’t leave any at home. I am here, as The Girl With Only Herself to Worry about, but that girl has others to worry about away from here so she’s just never really on her own. Or maybe, let me try a different perspective. Maybe the fact that I didn’t so readily shed my skin this trip means that this rolling stone is a little more content to stay in one field. Wouldn’t that be a revelation for my gypsy soul?
Luckily, I have a few more days away to ponder this. Guess I’ll see how I feel around the northbound bridge.
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