I confided in an old friend my misgivings about spending a year traveling across the country, conceding that it would damage my career, my finances, and my future earning potential. She told me it was alright so long as I knew what I was doing. I didn’t have the heart to tell her directly, but I muttered under my breath that if I knew what i was doing, I wouldn’t be wandering the country like a nomad.
And so, I sat down and gave a little thought about what exactly it is that I was trying to do, revision 01:
- Show the mud doggo “the world” before she became too old to enjoy it.
- Finally enjoy a real ski vacation and build a basic skillset for backcountry downhill skiing.
- Figure out where I wanted to set down roots.
I was certain this would be an acceptable explanation to future “HR” directors looking to hire managers that have proven that they’re already willing to pack it all up and leave the moment the “vibe” is off. So I sat down again in the slightly thicker air around Lake Meade just outside of Las Vegas and gave it another go. Revision 02:
- I am on a quest for the cure to my broken heart.
Okay, that’s something I can stand on. Those of you that have been following my blog know a little of what I’m talking about here. My quest has sent me up and down a hundred mountains, across a dozen rushing rivers, over international borders, into deserts, forests, the salty water of two oceans, and God knows what else. Standing on the peak of Mount Defiance in May, having not found the cure to my broken heart, I could only look out onto the land where I saw many other mountains, an ocean, and an even higher mountain in the distance.
Every step I take without you makes me feel like I have wandered further from the goal.