There’s a sacred time before any adventure when we dream of what might be.
The unshot vision, the unpaved path, the unkissed lips.
Like a toy car, we wind ourselves up with forecasts and group texts, nerves and excitement. The anticipation is intoxicating.We pack for a universe of potential, until every box is ticked and zipper zipped, and we catapult from planning into the world of possibilities.
This part is called the journey, and on it we may encounter a million things: Wins. Losses. Discovery. Dismay. Untracked lines, empty lineups. Weather delays, bluebird days. Heartache. Ecstasy. Enlightenment.
It doesn’t really matter. The only certainty, the only reason we repeatedly leave the comfort of home for the uncontrollable, is because when we return, we’re better people than when we left.