That feeling. That excitement. That happy anticipation.
That’s what I have been missing.
I’ve wanted it back, I just haven’t known how to recapture the wonder, because God, this world? It can be a wonder-filled place. Having the eyes to see it, and having the heart to feel it are when magical moments have an opportunity to blossom. When I began flying for a small domestic carrier, an airline that either A, no one had heard of, or B, every one made fun of- I wasn’t bothered. Because every experience, every place I landed, visited, and explored was new, and that newness was intoxicating. Maybe this is why, at the time, I didn’t drink. I was toasty by the world around. The new is always enticing. There is always new to be found everywhere, and familiar has its place in the mingle. There must be the familiar. I had both then. I have both now, in a way. Going. Always going does lose its luster. Or maybe not the act of going, but when a destination as mesmerizing as Copenhagen, or as utterly gorgeous as San Francisco on a sunny day becomes an every day experience, it becomes common, sadly, and instead of exploring, complacency settles. I never want to be complacent. Isn’t that why I took this new job? Because I fear becoming too comfortable.
I found what I was looking for then- an avoidance of comfort, because this transition, the letting go of where I started, and the stepping into where I find myself now has been anything but easy. The last five months (wow five months already) have brought days when tears were my new normal, and the stress felt heavy. So incredibly heavy. I have felt like the weight would break me. And as I am having wild successes, and amazing experiences, I still confront incredible failure. I think often of Hawaii, missing the carefree, feeling the heartbreak of the miles and oceans that separate my best friends and I currently. I want us back.
And I just can’t have us back. Yet.
I haven’t meant to imply that working for an International Airline is more challenging, as it is not. Being a flight attendant, wherever you go can be summed up fairly well by the phrase, “Same shit, different day.” I didn’t need this job, but I took it. Or maybe I have needed it more than I ever do know now, or ever will know in the future. As crazy as it sounds, or maybe it simply sounds crazy to me, but I have embarked on this adventure for Baby Blog. Oh- and because of that stinkingly cute uniform. I know that’s why the applicants were fitted during the interview. Game changer. Style- it is kinda a deal breaker (I could still go without the hat though).
Life, and life experiences are never one dimensional. Something is not ever ALL good, or ALL bad. Two nights ago, I sat, sobbing in a posh hotel room, my mascara smeared face held softly in the palms of my hands. No one to hug me, no one to hold me. I had just had the most wonderful afternoon wandering Bergen, a place I have dreamed of for years now. I felt thankful. Wildly alive, and so grateful for the moment. I felt like myself again. That in a Norwegian seaside town, I had finally re-discovered the girl filled with excitement, energy, and undeniable wanderlust. That she had not disappeared, she had just been resting- subdued, and patiently waiting. Waiting for something to awaken her again. And that evening, the same girl cried, because, although she could not be much more happy than what she was, over the fact of being in Bergen, all she wanted to do was go home. The tears increased to a torrent immediately when she realized that there was no home to go home to, no one waiting for her. Not even a closet to stow a bag. No one would be there besides Greta, the car that she loved to hate. Cars aren’t cuddlers.
And somhow, crying herself to sleep, the sound of rain a lullaby for her dreams, she awoke to find sunshine, and a blue like you don’t see in a crayon box. The day was new, and she wanted to see it, to see all of it. That wonder. That is wonder. That is wonderful. Nothing is ever ALL good or ALL bad.
Moments From Bergen