Back From Vacation

The vacation is over and I'm back at home. It was a good vacation, and I'm happy and thankful that I was able to travel with my family and my friend Heather for two wonderful weeks.

Traveling is a privilege, it really is. And I am thankful for the experiences and the good fortune. In the posts that follow I will share a few details from our travels.

Today was my second day at home, and the after vacation transition is going well. During our last night in Madrid, all five of us (see picture) were sitting in our room talking about what we were going to do when we arrived back at home. Most of us were returning to work. Janice, who was leaving her teaching job in Spain, was talking about a vacation of her own.

Although Janice was excited to see her boyfriend Chad, and go on vacation with him, it was hard for her to say goodbye to Spain. She had been living there for almost 9 months. Spain had become her home, the place where she lived and breathed. The place where she slept and walked. She was able to speak Spanish. She could navigate Madrid by memory. Something inside her was telling her not to leave.

It's easy for people to get attached to places. After just a few days our roots start to bury into the ground. And after months the roots may reach great depths. But the waters of life are the when we need them, softening the hard ground and drenching us with possibilities. Roots can be taken up, and moved, and then planted again.

My friend Eli, who I met in the summer of 2006 on the John Muir Trail, spoke eloquently and thoughtfully about transitioning. He was coming off the Pacific Crest Trail, and he was aware of the transitions that he would have to make. After meeting and talking with Eli, I've been more aware of the transitions in my own life. There are big transitions and small transitions, but they must be made. And being more aware seems to make the transitions easier and more enjoyable.

Standing in our hotel room in Madrid, I tried to think of the right words to help us with our transition away from Spain. I looked down at the glass of wine in my hand. Then I looked up. "Your body connects the dots of your life," I said. Not my best quote, but it seemed to get the point across. With legs and wallets and cars and planes we move ourselves around. Life goes on. Transitions happen, whether we realize it or not. Last week I was thousands of miles from my home, walking the streets of Barcelona and hiking among the Pyrenees Mountains. In the town of Cuenca, I watched my brother pluck a black olive from a tree and eat it. The olive tasted bitter and it turned his teeth purple. And now I'm back at home, sitting in my room, looking at the photographs that have made the transition from my camera to my computer.