I have the travel bug. I want to hop the pond again, and I want to see Prague. I want to see Paris. I want to navigate and ramble and pick through flea markets and marvel at the history and revel in the food. I want to hear another language. I want to feel shaken and cranky and amazed. I want to feel so outside of my comfort zones that its scary..in a safe ish way. I feel nostalgia and longing for places I've never been and for cultures I've never experienced. I want to feel foreign countrysides the way I feel forests when we go hiking. To see trees I don't see here, and to touch their bark and feel their beautiful, strong root systems and feel connected and grounded and present.
But then, I want lots of things. Our homestead. My chickens. A house that isn't leaking and neglected. A hammock in the woods, complete with mosquito net. I want smaller pores. Longer hair. A lobster tail and veuve cliquot. another pair of wool socks.
For now...I will eat supper with my love, and be present and appreciative.