Me (middle) having a blast with my buds in NZ!
I once went to visit an amazing psychic in Sedona, Arizona. Whether or not you believe in that kind of thing (and I do, because what she said was creepy accurate), she said something to me that has stuck with me ever since.
“You travel a lot. But every place you go, you leave a part of yourself, and so you’re always wanting to return.”
It’s true. I feel absolutely like I left part of my heart with my lover in New Zealand. And I’m pretty sure there’s still a part of me lingering around the beaches of Northern Uruguay. Carnival in Brazil wrapped me up good and tight, and I’ll never really get over how much joy I found in Israel.
Is it safe to say these experiences added to my life? Absolutely. But it’s also safe to say it took a lot out of me when it was over.
As a perpetual traveler, I feel almost as if returning to a place I’ve already been is taking a step backwards. But is it?
Returning to a place you love, after all of the wonderful people you knew at that time have left, changes things. If you can never have the same two experiences twice, is it worth it to return to a place you love and risk not having as much fun as you initially did?
I think a lot about re-visiting the places I feel most at home. I’m dying to live for another year in New Zealand. I’m anxious I won’t be able to before I turn 30 (when Working Holiday Visas expire) and I’m scared furthermore that if I do, nothing will be the same.
Furthermore, will returning shatter the glow of how much fun I once had?
