Tattooed Travel

Tick.

Tock.

Tick.

Tock.

The days are slipping away from us faster than we can realize. Somehow, we’ve gone from the darkest depths of winter to the scorching June sunshine. 200 days has melted into 45. Memories have blurred and slithered away. On January 8th when I didn’t think the sun would shine again, I somehow teleported to a different life. 

Life is still sad, still different, but with a speck of hope. Five months ago I didn’t think I could make it through the next day, let alone almost six months. Through grief we have learned and changed. In good ways and bad. And yet here we are almost at the end of the road of our new beginning.

In a little over a month, this weird phase of “What now? What if? Why not?” will have passed, and we’ll have entered the entirely new unknown. 

I was told we shouldn’t run from our grief, and I’m proud that we haven’t. During these months we have grown stronger together and learned to grieve as a unit. We’ve learned how to plan and compromise and figure out who we are as Colton and Olivia. Just us. Something we haven’t been able to do in the past.

We haven’t run from our grief, but we managed to soak in it. So when the time has come to leave, it feels okay to shed. To allow bits and pieces to follow us, but much of it processed and left behind. 

45 days from now we will leave our home for an unknown period of time. I have an extensive packing list and a few too many electronics (two techies take on the world?). I’ve spent countless hours poring over google docs, planning worksheets, and a map of the world. Somehow, we’ve made it happen. 

Short of profound exhaustion, amazement, and diarrhea, I don’t really know what to expect. Homesickness. Culture shock. Why the fuck did I do this? It’s hot. I miss my bed. I miss brushing my teeth with non-bottled water. What do you mean Colton, I absolutely should be able to pet this cat?

The usual.

45 days have come and gone in the blink of an eye. Somehow I think the next 45 will do the same, and I can’t wait to see what they hold.