I’m nearing the end of this adventure, sitting here in a hotel lobby. Nashville awaits as soon as my friend arrives.

I realize that right where I am, right now, is where I want to be.

So simple.

The real voyage of discovery lies not in discovering new lands, but in seeing with new eyes. -Second Firsts

This journey to North Carolina, with new horizons, sunrises, setting suns, terrains, allows grief to release space to make room for more peace.

Contentment.

Joy.

Unbridled, unrestricted. Unencumbered.

…

While walking through a store the other day, my necklace fell off from around my neck. His ring fell to the ground. I picked it up in a panic, but couldn’t find the other ring my sister gave me that had our union together inscribed on it.

I secure his ring on my right finger, and wonder if it is time to stop wearing it around my neck, and move on to new necklaces. It is not that I don’t want him with me, but maybe no longer centered around me as a statement of my life, or current condition.

It memorializes my loss.

It is time to move forward. Maybe keep it on my finger, or possibly frame both rings in a shadow box to display on my wall–as a reminder of our love and union forever incased in my heart. Yes, that’s what I’ll do. I believe the falling away from my neck was a moment of providence.

There are many moments on this journey, hard ones, happy ones, ones of wonder, worry, and everything in between.

What I’ve leaned so far:

1. I love to walk-hike. The feel on the feet, the beauty surrounding–brings me to a peaceful place within.
2. I prefer hotels to resorts. The clientele in hotels are a variety of work, travelers, and families. Resorts seem to cater to families, lovers, and conventions. It is easy for me to feel alone, yet in the middle of a crowd.
3. I enjoy a large lunch dining alone, to sitting at a table for one at night. Likely the same reason as above.
4. Home is where my heart is. Been gone nearly two weeks and feel it is time to get back–now.
5. I’m quite proud of myself, venturing out, solo. Call me Amelia Earhart, yet without the air, or the loss.

I went to look up an old writing from around when Bill died. It was 2017. I know this, but seeing the date put it in perspective. Two years. Three months. Two days. It is time to look forward to new frontiers that await, and not so much behind.

Maybe what I am doing right now is writing a new book, one of self discovery after significant loss.