We have been planning this trip for months--as a reward for all the trauma of moving. But now that I'm packing my carry on for real, I find myself more excited about the leaving; rather than the going.
I did not sleep last night after watching the first presidential debate. I can't wait to get away from computers, tv's, newspapers and tablets--away from Hillary and Donald and the potential disaster our country may face.
I can't wait to get away from my husband's job. Because he works remotely, I am privy to conference calls, difficult people and impossible deadlines.
I can't wait to leave behind certain family issues--issues that are beyond my control and that will never go away.
Except for a blissful three weeks.
For three blissful weeks, I only have to think about what fabulous things I am going to see that day. Rice terraces. Temples. Monkeys. Beautiful dancers. Batik. Lakes. Volcanoes. Tropical fish.
Then why do I feel so guilty? Why do I feel like I'm running away? Putting my problems on hold rather than facing them.
Then again, that is what travel is all about: Escape. And peace of mind.
For a blissful three weeks anyway.