I confess: It has been pretty hard getting back to normal life after 2 weeks abroad. After a fortnight of savoring Great Britain's architectural delights, strolling through century-old gardens, surveying the incredible beauty of the English country estates, and stepping back into the well-worn pages of history, I came back to my neat and tidy life in my 1-bedroom apartment in Indianapolis.[sigh!] It has been an adjustment.
I go to work each day, come home about 12 hours later (exhausted), heat up something for dinner around 8 (or microwave a frozen entrée at work around 6), force myself to unwind and go to bed around 11 PM and get up the next morning before 6 to start the cycle all over again. Charming, isn't it? I've been more than a little disheartened. I didn't want to return to this old life I once was so fond of. It has been too quiet, too serene. Nothing adventurous about it. I was captivated by the land across the pond and longed to go back once more.
But now that I've been back in the States for a few more days, I think I'm starting to rebound and recover from the extravagances of my delightful English holiday. Maybe my life has been a little too quiet of late, but I think it's all a state of mind. I seem to have forgotten how to suck the marrow out of life. It doesn't matter where I am really. I need to be living each moment to the fullest. I need to return to that simple principle and enjoy each nanosecond.
Yesterday afternoon I went house/condo hunting with one of my fellow England travelers, Becky, and we had some laughs reminiscing about our adventures. Afterwards, I headed to Plainfield to attend the annual Reistad Ribfest. My coworker Heidi and her family host a fabulous picnic on the first Saturday in June every year. They serve the best ribs ever, and I'm not a big rib-eater, but Diet Girl had seconds last night because they were just incredible. In fact the whole evening was delightful--a smorgasbord of tasty treats, lots of wonderful conversation and boundless laughter. My kind of perfect evening!
Today I arrived at the IMA about 30 minutes before my volunteer shift, and so I popped my MP3 player in my pocket and took a stroll through the gardens. I was literally hopping down the steps of the formal gardens with Chris Rice's “Kids Again” resounding in my ears. I was in my element. I didn't care who was watching or wondering why a 35-year-old was so cheerfully giggling to herself as she revisited familiar haunts. But with the beautiful sky beckoning above me, the brilliant garden colors around me, and punch-happy tunes playing in my head, I couldn't help but be happy! And yet, I am remembering that happiness is always an option, always there as a choice.
Yes, it's nice to be back home. I miss things about England. I miss the cooler temperatures, the old buildings, the fine architecture, the incredible landscapes and gardens, the tasty puddings and desserts, the romance of being abroad. Those were delights I will carry with me for years to come. But I'm also glad to get back to my own circle, worshiping with familiar faces, eating out with the old lunch crowds, catching up with friends on email and over dinner, sharing stories with family, etc. I'm back, and this is where HE has me for now, and I want to consciously choose to be happy in this moment and any others that follow. Life is a gift, and I don't want to waste it.
Deep inside, I sense that while my blossoming adventurous spirit may be resting for the moment, it has come fully alive again. This time, a new chronic virus has attached itself to me. It's official. I've got the international travel bug now.
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