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This feeling is different than all the others.

Funny how that happens still, huh?

In moving, excitement combats nostalgia.  This particular move is full of nostalgia.  This was the first apartment I’ve ever inhabited alone.  I put this house together, and now I’ve pulled it apart.

I’m feeling the push and pull of imagining yourself transient- wondering how long I’ll really stay free this way, but I knowing my time is short.  Then, the next adventure.  I’m sitting on the floor on a cushion next to my record collection, because every bit of furniture in gone from my home.  The home that isn’t really my home anymore.

It’s been nearly six months of dreaming about Europe, three months of knowing for sure that it’s happening, and now, less than a month before it’s time to go.  The one significant piece still here, hangs on the wall across from me- a map of the US my road trips dotted across it, each with their own color marker.  I realized today that an addition was necessary.  A World Map.  I’m still a bit awed by it.

In a technological mishap, I happened upon some photos from my last cross country trip, a totally different sport than International travel.  It still filled me up with more energy to roam.  The rush of leaving comes back to me know.  I’m partially gone from the life I’ve been living since I picked up and moved across the country.  It’s a feeling of anxiety that has morphed positively into a channel, flowing through me and moving me towards the next growth period.  Like a salmon traveling to breed, there’s an instinctual drive rooted in my core.  I’m just trying to make sure no Grizzly paws me out of the stream before I land in Amsterdam.

More to come.

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