I love to travel. I know, I know, everyone loves to travel. But it’s more than just relaxing and seeing new places that I love. There’s nothing I love more than experiencing new cultures. Meeting new people. Trying new food. Getting lost. The adventure of it all. I even love flying. I love seeing new airports. I love airplane food. I love long layovers. I love the grumpy flight attendants that tell me to turn my phone off. There is nothing quite like it and there is simply nothing I love more than the thrill and excitement of traveling. Except…people. More specifically, my people. My people are the best people. I was truly blessed when God picked out the people in my life. I have a brother who is also my best friend and who I look up to more than he knows. He gets me through the bad days, is there to celebrate the good ones, and lets me watch Gilmore Girls even though he really wants to watch Game of Thrones. I have a mom who puts me above just about everything else in her life. Her happiness, her well-being, her needs, are all second to me. I have a dad who is more fun than anyone I’ve ever met. He raised me to be the person I am and I really think my love for adventure came from him. I have a lot of friends and a few best friends. Those few are the few who know me best. They’ve seen me at my worst (freshman year of college, am I right? Jk every year in college), they’ve seen me when I went through that ugly phase with braces in middle school (shout out to J Gallitto), and they’ve still never left my side.
So I guess where I’m going with this is, the constant internal battle I fight between people and places. When all is said and done, people always win. Always. Not even an all expense trip around the world could beat them out (might come close though, tbh). I’m lucky, though, that these people have never asked me to choose. To choose between my passion and them. To choose between home and the world. To choose between coffee dates and FaceTimes. Thank you for that.
I’m sure many of my fellow travel lovers have a similar internal struggle. Maybe not. But my guess is, almost everyone has someone at home holding down the fort. Someone to come home to. Someone to tell their stories to. Don’t forget to thank those people. Don’t forget that being away is often much harder for them than it is for you. Just as you’re missing home, they’re missing you.
So, thank you to my family and to my friends for being my rock. Thank you for letting me do what I love and picking up my FaceTimes in the middle of the night when I forget the time difference. Thank you for letting me tell you about my weekend trips when you had to work all weekend. Thank you for being you. I miss you all more than you know.