I can’t remember a precise moment where I realized that I wanted to travel. I’ve read blogs and heard friends talk about the moment they realized they were in love with it. I never had that moment. It was just…always there. I used to love collecting tourist pamphlets as a kid. The prized ones were the free state/province guidebooks. I’d pour through them, over and over again, planning hypothetical trips. Where would I stay, what would I do, where would I eat?
I dreamed of riding the roller coasters at Cedar Park and Carowinds, playing tennis on Hilton Head, seeing the Rockies, exploring Central Park (well, 2 out of 4 ain’t bad, I suppose….)
The need for movement and a change of scenery has always been there. And hopefully always will. Over the years, my tastes have changed. I’m less interested in roller coasters and big cities, and my loves lie more in the mountains and hiking trails. I know some people who have bucket lists of big cities, famous museums, European countries, mine is of hiking trails and peaks, of national parks.
And so…. let the blogging recommence.
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