new friends old place new place old friends

here i am,
wednesday,
drinking tea in starbucks, it tastes like spearmint [though he told me that it wouldn’t, but i don’t want to complain. i swear i’ll never learn].

travelling, writing, adventuring, living, making a life with a man i love with all my heart. strolling together, hand in hand, along the streaming days that pass us by. and there goes a week.
i’m living. i’m living and finding my feet in this fairytale’s summertime heat.

last night i sat on the roof of a building in pioneer square watching the sun as it set behind a veil of sheeting clouds and silhouette mountains on the puget sound.
the wind blew goosebumps onto my bare skin and set a tall, billowing flag floating strong and proud into nowhere, reminding me of the place i’m in.

i drank red wine over dinner with a girl i feel i’ve known a while longer than i have. we spoke about life and love and adventures and connection. flames of the fire pit blew towards us as the warmth of our conversation grew and expanded to life’s biggest priorities, our feminine independence and the beauty of loving ourselves.

two then became three as we devoured dessert in the dulling light and laughed about the silliest things. two girls and a guy, a rooftop and the naked navy sky with no moon to light it. we settled into knowing each other and melted into the gas and heat of the fire burning at our feet.

georgia

i left in a daze, tired and unphased about the lack of sleep i’d just had, whether i packed enough, whether i packed too much. i found myself on a plane, delayed by a busy tarmac at eight in the morning, how does that happen so early?

we landed and i disembarked and ran to my gate for my plane to the states, through customs and immigration and border control. i was flustered and red, i broke into a sweat, arriving at a gate that wasn’t even ready yet. [i thought i’d be so late they’d be calling my name.] so i sat and i killed time for ten minutes or so, and when called, walked down the escalators with the other keen passengers to waiting air hosts below. i sat next to georgia, a twenty-one year old from melbourne travelling to jamaica to watch the cricket and meet other cricket fans before jetting back to the usa to explore for two months more, alone and excited and anxious for what lay ahead.

she asked me questions, over the spare seat between us, while sitting against the window in striped socks and vans, cropped yoga pants and a leopard print sweater, hair tied with a scrunchie in a lopsided bun, “i hate flying” she said “it takes so long, it’s boring and painful. and i still have so many hours left!” we laughed it off, it wouldn’t be as bad as it seemed i promised.

we spoke in the darkness over the hum of the plane about adventures and my favourite spots in the usa, where she just has to visit and what she just can’t miss, while others slept or buried their attention in the tiny screen on the seat in front. we giggled quietly at people speaking too loudly with their headphones on and the kids throwing tantrums two rows away.

for fourteen hours we sat nearly side-by-side until we arrived to clear immigration and went our separate ways – caught in the chaos, forgetting to say goodbye. a fleeting meeting filled with curiosity and hope for good, wholesome adventures. so maybe i’ll never see her again. but maybe i will, this world is so small and things come back around in ways we never expect.

wild hearts can’t be broken

reckless.

i’m living without tomorrows.

it happens when i travel. i’m the most organic, existential version of myself. life feels pure and sure. and i think about ordinariness – my breath shortens. i swallow hard.

right now, you know, this is what there is, this is what there needs to be.

this is what
…all…
i want.

endless todays. where love shows up in so many things.

how it all makes me feel.

a quarter-life-crisis. perhaps. or maybe the epiphany i’ve needed all this time.

well, then. what’s more wild than love?

smells like american spirit

it’s just like i remembered. although, i didn’t think it’d hit me like it would.

america has its own, unique scent.

it’s delicious.

…humidity mixed with melting asphalt, chevys and a dream that lingers in the exhales of all the people surrounding me.

further than that

i can feel that fire start to rage within my soul once more. in the knowing, and the comforting thoughts of travel.

take me far from here. watch me soar. with wings of golden dreams.

i’ll holiday at home

i fly to america on friday morning.

this travel thing, i just can’t get enough.

i mean, it will

never

be enough.

i’ll jump from cloud to cloud. right now, yeah, that’s all that matters. tomorrow and tomorrow that day that never comes, why plan, why wait, why make it stop – that innate yearning to live my most favourite dreams, right in my real life.

so when i fly to america i’ll see it right there, with brand new, changed eyes and a big, juicy, open heart.