In the supermarket today I heard Madonna singing “La Isla Bonita” and it took me back to those days in my twenties when I was isolated and ignorant and living vicariously through the music playing on the radio and the books I was reading.
That period of my life is marked in my mind with images and sensations of hot summer days alone with two babies in the piney woods of Louisiana, with no way to entertain myself besides reading. The novels I read inspired attempts at my own adventure stories as I imagined myself in London or Rome being pursued by villains. The escapades of the heroes and heroines sparked ideas for my own two-dimensional romantic adventures which fizzled after a few dozen pages.
I dreamed of traveling the world.
And now here I am, thirty-plus years later, living my own little adventure; not traveling the world yet, but living outside the traditional space of my upbringing. I’m learning another language, settling into a career. I’m sometimes frustrated and sometimes delighted. I’ve had a romantic encounter or two. I’ve learned how to make ONE traditional dish and have expectations of learning to make one or two more.
I don’t know where I’ll go next, and I’m okay with that. I’m putting my feelers out in many directions, because I believe that if I do, Life will have more options to offer me. I’m enjoying my days, learning, practicing, working to improve.
Now and then traveling back on a memory brought on by a song.