There’s a saying;
Create a life you don’t need to go on holiday from.
Or something like that, if not a little more wordy.
I go one further from that.
Create that life, then go away and realise yep, you didn’t need to travel to realise you have it best at home.
I live in one of the prettiest places. I hope I never stop seeing it. I hope I never NOT notice it, looking so stunning that I need to pull over when driving to take a picture of the view. Or calling out to the kids to look at the mountains today.
If I had a £1 for everyone who said they are just a bit envious of us upping sticks and moving somewhere more ‘us’, I’d be pretty damn wealthy.
They all say they want to. How they often wish they did.
But, they all say, they couldn’t do it.
Work. Or relationships. (The family reason does make me laugh— if you don’t live next door to your family you dont stop loving them. Or even stop seeing them, or contacting them.) Or you know the big starting again thing. All a bit scary. They couldn’t do that.
(And sure, I’m fairly sure a muddy welsh hillside is not everyone’s dream)
Tho, there is a voice inside me wondering if you never ever step outside the easier, predictable comfort zone of what you do, of what is expected, of WHERE it’s always expected you will live, then you won’t ever know if you COULD do it, if it could work.
I am far to old to ‘begin again’- but we did, and I’m way too old to say I’m living my dream... I switch the word for my ideal, sounds way less cheesy!!. But funnily enough I actually say it every day. It isn’t perfect - by living the ideal I don’t mean it’s so perfect and dreamy. It’s got rain. Mud. Isolation. Sharp learning curves. A constant to do list. It’s really living my ideal. Not playing. Doing it. Rough bits and all.
As I write this, I am in a hotel room, having travelled for work. I drove for hours and through a variety of landscapes. I got to do my favourite job, and also as a bonus see some good friends. It’s clean, has everything I could need, there are many shops and a billion facilities within minutes of here.
Except of course, my dog. Or those views, that soft morning mist, snuffly pony noses, stone floors, homemade cups of tea, familiar sofa seats, goats that empty your pockets, fresh eggs in straw...
The best bit of travel is going home.