I thought it was going to be so easy - fun, even: skip around America, visit friends and family, spend time just because I had all the time in the world to spend. And, in theory, it does sound wonderful, doesn't it?
You see, here's what used to happen after a visit to Cali, or hanging out with a distant friend, or taking a solo vacation: I'd go back home. I'd have my solitude, my tranquility, my old but comfortable and well maintained furniture to sit on, my familiar bed to sleep in. While out carousing, I would make mental notes to remember this event or that episode so I can be sure to share it with Ron, George, Mike and all the guys at work. Heck, my limber fingers would even type the narration out to Liz or Cat or other friends on my email list.
Somehow, while planning this vagabond adventure, I forgot that I'm painfully introverted. Sure, its great to lap up all the hugs from my sweet grandson, and have deep, philosophical conversations with my son... as long as I get to go back home and find my comfort zone, my quiet time.
I am the type of person who really needs a lot of quiet time: no noise, no conversation, no company. As a matter of fact, I am so painfully introverted that, when I had a 5-day a week job, the first of my days off was spent in utter silence, reading, cleaning up the house and doing laundry - that sort of thing. I didn't necessarily get on the computer, certainly didn't chat, and sometimes, even the phone went ignored (I usually just left it in the car).
By the time that day was over with, I was ready for a little noise and action. On the second of my days off, I would go out for a meal, do a little shopping, maybe just go for a walk or run errands.
Now, on day 10 of my vagabond life, I am craving downtime. Even during that first week with the family and my grandson glued to my side, I would wake up at odd hours in the night and wonder if I hadn't made a huge mistake.
I miss my space. I miss my things. I miss my quiet time. I miss my life. I don't miss my job necessarily, but I do miss the caring and thoughtful souls that work there, and I miss the measure of order and structure that a schedule gave me. Is this just transitory, or am I conditioned to a regimented life?
As a vagabond, what does one look forward to? If every day is free and you are obligated to nothing, what do you pursue?
Now, I am pursuing quiet time. Seven days with the family, followed by five days and counting with friends - sleeping in spaces that are unfamiliar, waking up at odd hours and trying to figure out where I'm at today. Trying to be bright, entertaining, 'on' every minute is exhausting for me!
I am so ready for some downtime.
The irony is, once I get to China, I will not have the opportunity to visit with my friends - at least not face to face; they will be too far away. So, I had better enjoy the visiting while visiting is possible. Also, thought crosses my mind that I will have a space to call my own once I get there. I will have a routine again, and I will be able to establish my life as I am used to it: some loud, brash fun, some good conversation, long stretches of quiet. I'm actually looking forward to that.
This makes me wonder: do I qualify as a vagabond?
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