Four months later

The blink of an eye, and four months are gone. Four months since I walked through the doors of Pierre-Elliott-Trudeau airport to jump back into normal life. Four months to catch my breath as much as I can.

Everybody says it is hard to come back from a holiday. It is even more difficult to come back from traveling. And the difficulty can only be as big as the trip was.

All in all, the obstacles didn't come from where I expected. Of course, of course, there is that urge to get on the next plane to "anywhere but here". Of course, there are all those memories I hang on to and I don't want to let go, scared of forgetting.

There is also all those unbearable "Time heals everything", almost as disturbing as those "You're still young, you'll certainly live more trips like this".

Yes, but...

Truth is, there is a mourning process. Saying "one lost, ten found" never made things better. Time never fills the holes left by those we are mourning.

Same!

There is a real pain. Not a physical one. But still a pain. A pain the body will remember. Like the couple of pounds we lost along the way we're putting back on. There is a questionning, the need to find back my marks, or to find new ones. And there is a need for a lot of time to breath freely again.

Four months and it's starting to get better. But it will never be the same. I'm starting to get a clear head, but still getting that call for traveling. The best remedy for the blues is using what we've learned on the road. Learned to live with the unexpected. Learned to accept not knowing what tomorrow is made of. And allowing ourselves to change our mind three times a day.

In four months, we work out our resilience. True : it is not nice to lie. But when people ask if the blues are gone, they really don't want to hear us say no. The people, they want to say "dust yourself up" or "get over it".

With time, by chance, I kept in touch with the people I found on my way. And I know I want to keep them in my life for a long time. I know now it is possible.

Four months later, at least, I started to move on. And if I haven't broken the mold completely yet, I'm not giving up on breaking it for good.