When I dreamed up this "180 days away" chapter, one thing that really lit me up brightly was the vision of some extended time by myself. Days when I would wake up alone, in a place where I knew hardly anyone, and hardly anyone would know me. Days when I would be able to follow my own natural rhythm of eating, sleeping, moving, and more deliciously: working.
It had been decades since life had tasted that way. Pretty much exactly 30 years, to be specific.
Once the calling came, in early May, I engaged in a mighty active bout of co-creation with the universe. And together, we made it happen. On September 1st I boarded a plane to Italy - and I knew that 8 weeks later, after two delicious months of traveling with people I love, I would wave another plane goodbye as I stayed behind, by myself.
I visioned it, I asked for it, and I allowed Life to create it with me.
And now, this "it" is going to be tomorrow, and my heart suddenly wants to hang on to the togetherness, to the sweet co-traveling and co-living. It wants to hang on to the joy and safety of sharing the daily delights, and the nightly savoring of recounting them, all over again.
It is so tempting, this close to the edge, to change plans. To continue what I have known to be so lovely. To forget how badly I had wanted this next chapter.
But I have worked too hard to let this go. I know, deep down in my soul, that what's coming is even more important than it is scary.
So tomorrow, as my partner gets on a plane, I will get into four different trains that will take me to the South of Italy, to a small hilltop village which name I am not sure to be pronouncing correctly. There, I will move into a room with a view of the sea, and a place for me to put down my backpack for a month. And write.
What happens next, I am not sure. Like I said, it has been thirty years since it's been just me and me.
I sure hope we like each other.
Bring it on.
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