Red Woods National Park

Agape - Bear's Den

For I'm so scared of losing you
and I don't know what I can do about it
About it
So tell me how long love before you go
and leave me here on my own
I know it
I know it

I've listen to this song 68 times this past weekend. I know because iTunes keeps a running count. Even when I don't have my headphones in the lyrics keep rolling around in my head. I don't want to know who I am without you. I don't want to know who I am without you. It's become a mantra, an exhale, the soundtrack to my day-to-day. 

As I've been reminded (once or twice) I'm three blog posts short of summarizing the California road trip: Red Woods, Seattle and Vancouver are missing. While I lay in bed this morning in a half-drowsy state I counted backwards and realized that four weeks ago (to the day) I woke up in Red Woods National Park and shared a first kiss in the dim pre-dawn light. 

I've been feeling a little lost since coming home. California was a great climax of twenty-five... and what an adventure it was: 12 days, four friends, 1,500 miles. The world (or at least the west coast) was at our fingertips. Every night of the trip I went to bed (exhausted, sweaty and usually in need of a shower) with a huge smile on my face. The world felt so possible while we drove; and 25 felt so small compared to all the adventures out there still waiting for us.

I wish I could have bottled that feeling. 

After waking up in Red Woods we spent the whole next day driving almost 500 miles on the I-5 North to Seattle. It's a pretty, coastal drive through Oregon and Washington, full of hypothetical sand dunes, lush, green forests and mountain cliffs rimming the Pacific Ocean - always on our left. I remember sitting in the front seat (the only time I sat in the front seat) thinking I might burst from happiness. 

But I was sad too. 

Sad because the trip was almost at an end. I felt so connected to the world around me, and so close with my road trip companions. I worried it was all an apparition: we'd cross the boarder back to Canada, blink, and it would all be gone.

But that's not true, is it? The friendships are real. And the things we saw, the mountains we climbed, the kilometers we hiked, even the marine sanctuaries we threatened (figuratively, I swear): they were all real too. That's the thing about travel: it drives us outside our comfort zone, pushes us over the edge and challenges us to look inwardly - to learn about ourselves - even as we gaze outwardly at the beauty of the world around us. 

Alright, friends. Where to next?

P.S. I promise I'll continue with my recap. Next up: Seattle. The land of hipsters, ferry boats and Starbucks coffee.