Yesterday I happened to take a look at the calendar and realized that one month ago I had spent the entirety of July 28th traveling from Nelson, New Zealand all the way back to Minneapolis, MN, USA. It really surprised me that it’s already been one month since I walked back into my dad’s house. Since I saw the girls again. Since I had my first ‘welcome back!’ Minnesota beer.
And just one month since I was experiencing winter. Since I had a job on a vineyard. Since I drove on the left side of the road.
I miss it.
So many people have called this an adventure. And I suppose that’s an accurate term for it. I called it that myself for a while. But at some point along the way it stopped being something as easily defined as an ‘adventure’ and it became something so much more. It became a way of life. I pushed myself to do a lot of things I didn’t know I could do [including walking out my front door in MPLS] and I got a taste for how satisfying that can be. I formed relationships that I think will be there in some form for years and years to come. I took 10,000 photos during a time in which I felt the happiest I’ve felt in 2+ years. And I was able to share that life in person [and in summer!] with not only my aunt and uncle, but my dad.
… It’s probably no surprise that I’d do it all over again in a heartbeat. There is something seriously magical about that place.