thoughts on traveling the world

Sometimes when you dream of adventure you imagine far off places and brand new faces. You think of jungles or castles, new accents and new sights and new smells. You think of anything that has nothing to do with home, and your heart soars and your eyes sparkle at the idea of going away and coming back with stories everyone else would only be able to pretend that they had been a part of.  You’re a bird wanting to fly, home is a cage keeping you inside, and the people around you are the ones that have clipped your wings.

Have you ever felt that way? I have. After graduating high school and not having a dime in the bank, I watched my classmates make plans for college and discuss with joy the futures that lay ahead of them. All of the sudden, I didn’t feel ready. To pay exuberant sums of money for an education that I wasn’t prepared for and didn’t yearn for seemed to me a waste. And, hanging up the phone that sunny afternoon after deferring my acceptance into my dream school, my heart felt light and already in my mind I was traveling the world, gaining experience and knowledge that no school could give me.

A blissful summer flew by and plans were constructed and Africa was to be my destination. I saw myself on a safari, hugging children, eating mangoes, and cooking African food and I felt excited and happy and ready. When the day of departure dawned, however, I didn’t want to leave. Suddenly, those people and those places that had once seemed confining were the very places and people I never wanted to leave. It was not with a joyful heart that I boarded the airplane that day, it was with a regretful heart. I thought of my dear classmates enjoying college and wished that I, too, were living a life of schedules and classes. However, I was going to Africa, and that is just how it was.

My life in Africa had too many ups and downs to count. I say this with a smile, remembering the deep lows and heavenly highs I went through over these four months. My idea of adventure before coming here was skewed. Adventure, my friends, is not an all-positive word. To have an adventure you must have unimaginably low times in order to make the good times that much better. Those nights spent crying for want of my home and shower and family only made the beautiful moments more wonderful. It’s a hard concept to explain, and I suppose you won’t truly understand until you’ve experienced it.

All of this to say, I’m leaving Africa with no regrets. I’ve learned so much through this experience and I wouldn’t change a thing. The main thing I’ve learned, however, is that I’m not as independent as I once led myself to believe. The number of times I’ve called my dad has bordered on ridiculous and I have messaged my mom far too faithfully. I’ve discovered I’m not meant to live in faraway places, although occasional visits wouldn’t be so bad.

For me, my heart is where my home is, and my home is where I know every street and sidewalk. Home is where my family can sit and watch The Middle and laugh so hard we cry. Home is where I know the location of every Chick-fil-A in town and it’s where I can sleep soundly and speak honestly and cry openly. I adore this world and all of the beautiful places in it, but there’s no place quite like HOME.