My Dreams On Hold

When I was in my late 20’s and early 30’s, I travelled. A lot! There was nothing I enjoyed more than the planning, research, and studies of another country. I attempted to learn the basic language, locate the museums and exhibits I just had to see, and the cuisine I wanted to taste. I didn’t have a strict itinerary, but I wanted to see everything I could in case I never made it back there and I usually saw it all. My travelling companion was always my Mom. We made a great team! We shared the same interests and got along so very well. We walked and walked and walked. We turned corners and found hidden gems not found in any guidebooks. Secret gardens, surprise exhibits. We talked to locals about the best non-touristy places to see. We saw the works of the greatest artists, painters, sculptors and inventors that ever lived. We saw buildings and ruins, gardens and cemeteries steeped in history. The greatest monuments and statues ever created. It was truly awesome. We went to England, Italy, Amsterdam, and France. We met amazing people, learned about different cultures, ate, shopped, browsed, wandered, dreamed of living in each city. It was magical. I never wanted to stop travelling. But I had to. My body wouldn’t allow it anymore. Daily migraines, chronic pain, and fibromyalgia didn’t make for great travelling companions. Not to mention the lack of income to afford the trips since I couldn’t work anymore. I refuse to admit that I’ll never travel again. I have to believe I will, at some point, be well and strong enough for another trip. It’s one of the few things that keeps me positive and allows me to keep fighting. Better days ahead, I hope!

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