Every time I travel for a few months, there is a tinge of regret about the last time I lay my head down on my bed (an exceedingly comfortable Swedish memory foam mattress) in exchange for a knobby mattress, sleeping pads, ground and soft couches. Trepidation tempers my excitement and a cheeky depression kicks in as I check and double-check my preparation knowing that things will inevitably be left behind or undone.
This seems to magically vanish the moment I check my bags. At this point I am privileged enough to enter, for a brief time, the nation of “Traveler”. There are no boarders, and the population ebbs and flows as its citizens step on and off the planes, boats and trains on the way to varied destinations.
However, until that threshold is crossed this Thursday at Sea-Tac airport, I switch between epic procrastination and absolute productivity. My head fills with the daydreams of the unknown as I sort through my piles of clothing and equipment. Curiosity propels me forward, as does the prospect of having a story to tell.
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