Two weeks ago
It had been months since I last saw my Confidante. At first, work and hobbies kept me away from her, but over time reasons became excuses. When we finally met, I shared a feeling that had surfaced while on a “staycation” in downtown Phoenix a week or so prior to us meeting. The feeling was one of helplessness and frustration at where I was in life. I remembered staring out of my hotel window saddened that my trip would come to an end, forcing me back into my ugly, crime-ridden neighborhood in Glendale. Away from the culture and fashion of the city life; Removed from the art district, museums, and galleries all connected on one short trip via the Phoenix Light Rail.
“I want to live in the city.” I confessed to her. “And I want to travel more. I want to visit France in five years time, come Hell or high water.”
As I divulged more details of my desires to travel, she shared her own personal experiences of visiting a number of European countries. When she did, I began to fantasize about myself in the cities she described. Eventually, she would suggest that I not just visit Europe, but that I should consider living there for a minimum of a month. In truth, the idea of being away from those closest to me was frightening. However, my time abroad wouldn't be permanent, and it wouldn't be for long.
I made up my mind and agreed with her suggestion.
I want my first new home in Europe to be in Madrid, Spain. I intend to live there for a couple of months, two or three years from now. Until then, I hope to have a better familiarity with the Spanish language, and some measure of savings to make the stay an easy one. After Spain, I want to do it all over again in France two or three years afterward.
I have no family, career, or great responsibilities weighing me down. As a man who has never lived in a home longer than two years since the age of fourteen, I have no reason to fear change. What I have is a burning passion for adventure, one fueled by the loving support of those closest to me.
