In one graceful moment, his coffee spilt all over the table. I had already been laughing earlier. Now, as I watched the “Oh this is perfect” expression flash across his face, I couldn’t help but laugh again. It really was a cute moment. He made a joke about how if this was a first date, I’d already be out the door.
We talked about how I had just painted my shoes in my car using fabric paint, how he has enough confidence with a microphone for all of us that don’t, the 180 tear ducts in a person’s eye (as told to us by the man with the eye patch beside us), our families, our friends, and the often overwhelming and puzzling thing that is: life.
As we sat there, I was acutely cold yet deliriously happy. Laughter felt good. Real conversation, comforting. The wisdom of a true man, indescribable.
He spoke of his time abroad. Of the beauty that he encountered. The ways in which he got lost, and how he eventually found himself.
Being home wasn’t as effortless as he had expected. He had begun to experience what many travellers stumble upon – settling back into a mundane routine, with little inspiration and much less beauty in the everyday.
Where did that part of him go? The part that was on FIRE for life in Paris? The part that felt fully ALIVE in Croatia? All of this talk got me thinking. I’ve experienced the exact same emotions, run into the same let downs, and desperately craved to be abroad once more. How do you keep the part of yourself that you “found” while you were away?
It all comes down to a choice, he said. We can choose to live full lives wherever we are. We can choose to wander the streets of the city alone, we can choose to grab a backpack and hit the road with no destination planned out. Happiness is our choice. We just forget to choose it at times.
Thank you, kind sir who spilt coffee on the table, for making me laugh and for reminding me of the beauty in life. Of your beauty, the beauty around me, and the choices that I am able to make.