I was born in West Germany on a Wednesday.
By the next Monday I was being shuffled south to Italy.
It really shouldn't surprise anyone that I developed the heart of a vagabond during these formative years. My wanderlust, cultivated early, is deeply embedded, and this trait that has served me relatively well.
However, I recently had what I would call 'a moment.'
I found myself sitting in the airport after landing in 6 states in less than 2 weeks, eating my 3rd helping of shitty airport food in as many days. Same uncomfortable chairs, obnoxious announcements and crappy lighting, but a different city.
I looked around and suddenly realized I was so incredibly tired.
It wasn't just the current trip that weighed on me; it was months and months of impermanence (granted, impermanence caused by my insistence on running away from things). Somehow, in all this fleeing, a new desire had crept up on me; I wanted somewhere to return to again - somewhere that mattered.
So, in the middle of the Chicago airport I thought deeply about my life. After those intense 5 minutes of pondering my existence, the decision I had thought would be difficult --the decision I had dithered over for weeks -- turned out to be entirely simple. The right grad school was picked, a better pizza was bought, and a happier me started the final flights home.
Don't worry though - while ending my hobo days is awesome, I will be traveling again soon.... it looks like I leave for Peru in 24 days. :)