I planned to write, I really did. But instead, I once again found a way to waste a morning . For months I've routinely begun my days around sunrise, but today, my second day back home, I opened my eyes around nine.
Then, still determined to write, at a sluggish pace I showered, ate some almond yogurt, and brewed some coffee. By 10:15 I was at my desk, with an empty word doc in front of me, but the cursor failed to move. For minutes I sat, staring blankly at the flashing line, finally interrupted as Charlie stumbled in.
With a long stretch he slid his paws down my shin, inviting me to come join him on the adjacent sofa. Suddenly I felt exhausted. “Hmm, perhaps I will lay down for a moment.”
One hour later and there I was, again staring blankly at a screen. I'd gone through a few games of "words with friends" and browsed through my news feed, but now my thumbs lay idle on the empty home screen, perhaps trying to cover the reality of how much time had passed. At eleven a.m. I began writing this. And after an additional two hour hiatus, I sat back down to finish.
Far off from my originally proposed topic of adventure, this topic is in fact its antithesis. For nine months of 2017, this was my routine. I'd sleep till mid morning, but never really wake up, stare at blank screens, and waste countless hours of time. Surrounded by the comforts of home, I often spent my days in deep thought, dreaming up adventures and ideas, and never making any progress toward them. But coming off of three straight months of challenges and new experience, I now see how limiting this life can be.
Unlike my last move home, this one has a clear deadline. In less than five days I’ll board a plane to South Korea. I'm terrified, and excited, and can't wait to depart, because in those moments void of comfort, the sun shines a little brighter, it’s warmth is a little softer, and each breathe is a little more cherished.