Wanderlust has never really been a part of my existence. Probably because my parents worked hard enough to always take the family somewhere different at least one week a year (usually in August). I’ve been on a lot of drives to New Jersey and Connecticut, I’ve been to Florida multiple times, and Vegas multiple times. A few other states have been host to my family vacations as well, Alaska, Hawai’i, and Montana included. I’ve seen many beaches scattered through Mexico, Cuba, Aruba, and the Dominican Republic. I’ve been to a bit of Europe, and to the Philippines once. I’ve been lucky.
That’s not to say that I don’t have a list of travel destinations. And I definitely get post-vacation blues that can stick around for a few days to a few weeks after coming home. But I don’t get struck with daydreams of travelling the world very often. I’m not sure if I’ve ever done so at all.
However, there are days when the wandering thoughts of trying to start over in another city pop into that overactive imagination of mine.
It’s never because I think things just aren’t working where I am and I need to get a fresh start. I’ve been fortunate enough to have such a wide support base, from family to friends, to even friends of friends, where I’ve never felt like I’m alone. I just like to wonder sometimes. Could I pull it off in New York? What about L.A.? What about some place completely opposite from Toronto? The countryside? West Yellowstone, Montana? (It’s on the list of places to which I’d like to return.) It’s just fun to think about. Kind of like imagining what it would like to be a superhero, or an astronaut, or part of Starfleet Academy. Picturing myself in these scenarios is not only a creative exercise, but a fun one. Almost like a more expansive version of when I used to pretend to be a Power Ranger in grade 3. Pretend for (almost) grown-ups? I suppose so.
I think I may have psyched myself into a bit of wanderlust by writing about it. Whoops.
Anyone want to join? Let’s start here: