This time tomorrow I hope to be on a beach on the Gulf of Mexico. I am traveling down with friends to see someone who left town about this time next year. I am toying with the idea of not taking a computer, not taking my iPod, not taking anything but me and a bag of clothes.
I will not be back until Monday night. Except for periodic trips to Smith Mountain Lake, I've not been outside of Charlottesville for more than one night for a long time. I've not been on an airplane in almost a year and a half. Come to think of it, this will be my first domestic flight in more than ten years.
When I was younger I thought I would have traveled the world by now. Or at least, I thought I would have seen more of the United States of America. Somehow, though, I've become ensnared by Charlottesville and it seems as if this will be my home for the foreseeable future. I'm glad to be here, but I'm salivating at the prospect of being in a place that is different, if only for a few short days.
I am hoping when I come back that I will be able to reframe how I view my time here. I hope I can find a way to put the past permanently behind me. At least, I'd like to stop the roller coaster ride of emotions that has been going on for the past three months. I'm hoping when I come back I will view things differently, and that I'll be able to use the experience of being outside to layer a new perspective over top of the old.