A year and four continents later

Paraty, Brazil

There it is, potentially the last page of the story. I've been back from my adventures around the world for a year now. Last celebrations, maybe. Because life is like that. We count the days between us and an important event, we celebrate the first anniversary, and we forget it until a decade has gone.

One year, it goes so fast. But it's a long time too. I now talk about my trip in the past tense, like it happened centuries ago. Images are frozen, life goes on, and I hate myself for that. I still have photo albums to make, stories to tell, but time goes...

Life pushes us forward. Time does it too. And if we slow it down a little when the passport becomes the most precious thing we have, it gets its speed back once we sit behind the computer at work.

I met a friend in Japan. He is now going around the world himself. I smile for each of his pictures. I see those places I've been to, the happiness I left behind since I couldn't steal it away from those foreign lands.

It will have taken me four months to come back completely. To accept to be home. But I left again. Three times. On four continents. And I hear the call to go again, stronger day after day. I'm still convinced that one day, I'll disappear. I'll sail away, and that's it.

If there is a thing I accepted, is that people will say I'm lucky. That I shouldn't want to leave again after being on the road so much. Others, I let them talk.

I learned I should live for myself first, even if I can't do it perfectly. I learned nothing is impossible, even if I tend to forget. If i can't climb every mountain now, I allow myself to dream and to give myself the means to reach their summit one day. I accept I can't see further than tomorrow. I avoid making scenarios about what could happen. Things will happen... or not anyway. I learned to do things instead of regretting.

Yes, I hate myself for forgetting. For going back to bad habits I thought I got rid of. For stressing without good reasons. For forgetting I promised myself I wouldn't compromise. For getting mad at traffic jams. For losing patience for all those things that aren't happening fast enough. For forgetting to dream. For sinking into routine.

I hope I will never forget, and up above all this, I hope I'll go again. Often. And that the best friends in the world, I found all around the globe, will always remind me.

Despite not flying as often as I wanted, I've met again with Ross and Peter in Ottawa, Louiza in New York, Casey in Philadelphia, Uriel and Alex in California, Morti in Montreal, Janet-Lee in Québec, Kim, Marit and Erik in Amsterdam, and Julie and Philippe a few minutes from home. And it means the world to me. And there is all of those I haven't met again in person yet, who I still can reach on Skype and Facebook. Too bad for those who thought those friendships would fade away. Those people, I still miss them every day.

At least, no matter how much it cost me to travel, I now know that I'm richer because of it. And egotistically, I want to keep that fortune to myself.