One day I might have enough money in the bank. One day I might find the “right time” to travel the world. One day I wont have to do it alone.
Waiting for one day started to feel like running head on into a never-ending gust of wind. It started to feel like that spinning carnival ride where gravity presses you against the wall and holds you firmly in place as you wait for the wheel to stop. Adding to the list of reasons I couldn’t drop everything and travel became a habit. I have a college degree; I have loans and an apartment, I can't just leave! One day I will go.
Then, one day, a switch flipped and I realized that “one day” was an excuse. It was a way to justify my fear.
I booked a flight.
On January 28th I boarded a flight to London with a list of places I wanted to see. I can now say that I’ve climbed a volcano. I’ve watched the sun set over Barcelona and rise over Edinburgh. I’ve been soaked by the rain in London and felt the sun on my skin in Spain. I’ve seen the moon light up the Austrian Alps, and watched the Northern Lights appear over Iceland. I’ve made new friends and visited old ones. I got tired of waiting for someone to travel the world with, so I decided to do it on my own. I got tired of waiting for one day. 52 days and 8 countries later, I flew home. And I have never been more proud of myself.