“… I just did it. I moved away. I bought a one way ticket and I moved to Hawaii!!!” – he said through the line. Farther and farther as the words trailed off.

I was far northern, still in the same country but an ocean and a couple states away. “You’re quite brave. Everyone romanticizes with the idea of moving away, but you actually did it. I’m quite happy for you”. I said reassuringly.

I admired his sense of valiancy. To be able to let go of the weight and the burden of the past, to take action and do something about his future. To move on. But it hadn’t come easy. You see he’d been through a lot. Times that tested his faith, his strength, his maturity, his wisdom, all of him. A little bruised, and a little humbled, at a crossroad he chose to move ahead. A past that had anchored him for years had maybe made him lose his sense of direction a bit. But he knew it now, and that’s what mattered. A long conversation later, with many motivational words exchanged I promised he could always count on me, many miles away.

That night I laid in bed for hours, thinking about my own life and what I would do. It’s rather quite opposite. In those moments of weakness where valor has struck me, my thoughts have never led me far from home. Sure, I guess loading up a truck, filling it up, and riding off into the sunset and leaving it all behind does sound tempting. But let’s face it? How far could I get alone!? I’d get a flat tire half way there, pick up a psychopath hitchhiker and/or get there and acquire some rare third-world-country disease. (Apply all sarcastic humor uttering those words..lol). But that’s just me.

Every time I’ve thought of fleeting my current environment. I’ve always wanted to go, well… home. To where I came from, where I was born. Sure it’s full of genocide at the moment, but it’s the memories I treasure most. Those that don’t carry weight. Me at my happiest: Young, naïve, no burden in the world. Plainly and simply put, just happy. In my own way, I’ve always felt quite out of place here. I mean, I can’t complain, I love my family, I love my friends, I’ve loved everyone whose come and gone from my life. But my heart’s never quite settled to the surroundings. And a lifetime later, maybe I too have grown tired of my own direction. I’ve gotten lost a time or two in the dire search for happiness. I’ve felt the thunder, and the pouring rain, and the haze that doesn’t let you see past your own desperation. And when you’re that lost, well, sometimes all you crave is a bit of familiarity.

I guess, there comes a time in everyone’s life when all you can see are the years passing by. And after so many poets and writers urging us to seize the day. That’s the journey we choose to take. For some it means moving miles and maybe oceans, or countries away. For others it means finally coming home. Whichever fits you.

Maybe in the grand scheme of things all we are trying to do is find somewhere we belong. Somewhere it all makes sense. And that at the end of the day if all else fails somewhere to lay our head down, close our eyes, and begin dreaming all over again.

They say the road less traveled is less traveled for a reason. But maybe that reason isn’t because we chose to conform to the easier ideologies and clear paths. Maybe it’s because we, in our desperation forget that even the most meekest soul is brave. The Road Not Taken, is unfamiliar, and challenging. But it’s the one most vital to take at a time or another in our lives. For if we do not venture out into the world, find our niche in this big old place, we will always run in circles. We will always run into ourselves.

A sense of direction, doesn’t mean always holding a compass, it’s just putting one foot in front of the other, confident, that whichever destination our path leads, “the getting there”, will always be the most important part of the journey. Happy Travels.