Boots… STOP walking!!
Today’s morning plan had two potential paths to follow. One was to wake up at 8am and go for boot camp. The other was to have a nice, hearty breakfast. Since I went to bed at 3am and got out of bed at noon, the obvious choice was, of course, the latter. (Yes, I had breakfast at 1pm. Deal with it.)
After a delicious, juicy, chicken-filled French crepe, we stopped by the Austin Pets Alive station on South Congress to show the dogs some lovin’. That’s where I got acquainted with the adorable Carter.
I’ve always loved dogs more than any other pet and I’ve been wanting to have one for years. Specifically, I like big dogs. The kind that will be dragging you down the road while you’re desperately trying to hold on to the leach and when they jump on you in the living room, you’re lucky if you manage to stay on your two feet. Small dogs are not my thing. Anything that bounces while barking is not a dog. Those little overgrown rats should just be a squeaky toy for my dog to chew on. But I digress.
While walking Carter around the neighborhood my mind went on a tangent once again about what I sacrifice to have the kind of life I choose to lead. It’s impossible for me to have a dog. How can I possibly be responsible for it and keep it by my side, when my desires often include fleeing the country I’ve been living in for 2 years to go travel like a nomad through 4-5-6-7-athousand countries before choosing to settle in whichever destination is unexpectedly designated as last (for the time being)? It’s not the fact that I consider it a burden. On the contrary, it would be a wonderful partner in crime. But most countries have regulations when it comes to “migrating” dogs, such as getting vaccinations, issuing passports and visas (yes, a pet passport), putting them in quarantine for a pre-determined amount of time, etc. On top of that, what the hell is the poor dog going to do when I decide to go and spend a month in the Gobi desert? Supplies are scarse and living condition are harsh for a human, let alone for a canine.
Half way through this thought process, I saw an abandoned church with a HUGE, arched side window that was sealed shut. My mind immediately went to my dream home. A house up on a hill, but not far from a busy city centre. Lots of big, loft-like spaces, high ceilings and enough natural light to make the marble floors of my kitchen sparkle. My bedroom has that exact same window. I pull the long curtains open and as the wooden rings grind upon the dark, brown, oak curtain rail, I am overwhelmed by the sun’s warm rays, while I gaze upon the green field that trickles down towards the city’s skyline.
SLAM ON YOUR BREAKS, brain and enjoy the screeching of the wheels on the tarmac, complemented perfectly by the alluring perfume of burning rubber, because that’s all you’re gonna get to feast on for now. Are you forgetting that you still have not found a city that you can call “home”? How can you make such a dream house a reality when you haven’t even found the perfect ground for it and every place your heart has gotten captivated by so far proves to be inadequate only a couple of years down the line?
Some travelers have a home base and some don’t. The ones that do either choose their home base because they need one, or because it feels like the perfect one. Me, I can’t settle. I have the kind of heart that will never find peace unless every single piece of the puzzle feels perfect. Until then, I’ll keep on vagabonding from place to place, from beauty to beauty, from surprise to surprise. Even if it means sacrificing some of my deepest desires. It’s a choice I made long ago and I never looked back. It’s a trade-off I am perfectly happy to live with. For now, at least…
I will never stop walking. Ever. It’s who I am. It really would be wonderful though for my boots to have their very own shoe rack where I can pick them up from each time I choose to wander off and long to put them back into many months later. I’m looking forward to that.