Everything Changes

The other night driving to dinner, I was thinking about Cuba. At the time, canceling seemed like the best thing to do. The Travel Ban was wrecking havoc and Spicer announced that they were starting to look at Cuba…let’s be honest, if only one plane in the entire world, only one person to be effected by a change in the embargo with Cuba then that person would be me. It’s my curse of good luck. 

It’s been discussed before with all of my wonderful luck comes my bad luck. I’ve been escorted home by Buckingham Palace guards, held hostage in a terminal in Germany, been asked to leave a flight in Bermuda because they thought my mother was a drug lord, debated over who had to take me between America and the Bahamas, as well as been delivered to the border by Canadian Mounties who get very upset if you ask if they’re real Mounties even though they’re not on horseback. If anyone was prime for limbo of an embargo, it is me. 

Honestly though, I think my spirit was broken. My isolation has been driving me crazy, but it’s coming round. There was so much to go through that being on the road would have pushed me over the edge or forced it all down inside of me. Back to seeing a balance, I thought about Cuba. I’ve thought about an end game, a final result. The wandering isn’t over, just maybe the living out of a carry on. Do you realize I’ve been rotating out the same 8 outfits regardless of the climate since December 4th? Poor things were getting pretty threadbare. 

You know what they say, we plan He laughs. There are loose plans in shape…mostly in the shape of a sailboat, but there’s probably a couple of continents before I unpack. It’s just silly. Cali is so close to Hawaii, Hawaii is so close to SEA, and SEA is so close to Australia…how can I not?! That should get me through hurricane season. Plenty of time for me to think of a name for a sailboat too. 

The boat isn’t the point. The point is driving the other night I thought about how sometimes your heartbreaks and your dreams change. That is exactly what had happened. Then it dawned on me that that isn’t a new thought. In fact, it is exactly how this whole thing got started in the first place. The header asks “how many miles to heal a gypsy soul?” Looks like we’re starting from zero and beginning all over again.