One after the other we piled onto the bench seats in the dusty, white LandCruiser. Three in the front, six in the back—two Nicaraguans, two Brits, one Aussie, and four Americans—taking a break from surfing (which is only slightly ironic given that we were on a break/retreat to surf) to road trip to Leon, the former colonial capital of Nicaragua which boasts the largest cathedral in Central America. Once the doors were shut, windows open (a necessity in the Nicaraguan heat), Alvaro hit the gas. We sped over the cobblestone and dirt streets of sleepy El Transito, slowing down only for the not-so-occasional chicken crossing, oxen-pulled cart, tuk-tuk (moto-taxi), and the one motorcyclist who was texting while biking. But once we hit the paved highway that would take us all the way into Leon, we slowed down for no one, meaning we basically flew.
Resting my head against the window frame, I closed my eyes and let the wind whip my hair around as the Gerry Rafferty, The Kinks, and Fleetwood Mac, among others, drifted in and out between everyone’s laughter. That’s when it hit me.
Two months and roughly five days into my year-long life on leave, I realized for the first time that I had done it. After years of day dreaming coupled with meticulous planning, obsessive saving, several bouts of self-doubt and second guessing, and one lovely helping hand from the universe to nudge me along at the end, I had finally left my job (permanently) with no new career or plan in place other than to leave it all behind for a year—a sabbatical of sorts—and to live all the life I’d been shoving into the nooks and crannies of each year (or worse, saving for later).
I had finally done it, and man oh man, sitting in that LandCruiser, soaking in each moment on the way to Leon with the Rise Up crew, did it feel so good.
And it still does. Instead of measuring my life in six-minute increments and scheduling it by the court’s calendar, I’ve spent the last four months counting the days by morning meditations and yoga practices, evening sunsets, waves caught, siestas taken, friends and family I’ve gotten to spend time with, places I’ve visited, and at times like now, when I’m back at home in between trips, nights spent cuddled up with my favorite cats, Bacchus and Beignet.
These first four months have taken me from Spain to Costa Rica to Nicaragua to Mexico City and back to Spain again. I’ve connected (even if briefly) with life-long friends, high-school friends, law-school friends, friends from the years I lived in Spain and Argentina, and I’ve made so many new ones along the way. I’ve learned how to teach yoga (certified instructor and everything). I’ve learned (and am still learning) how to practice yoga on and off the mat. I’ve nailed my pop-up and turtle rolled until I’m blue in the face (in one surf session that might have literally been true as I got caught between two sets of waves and spent most of the morning under rather than on top of my board). I’ve boarded and then rolled (unintentionally) down a volcano; eaten my way through Mexico City with my travel soul sister; seen ancient ruins from a hot air balloon; fallen in love with flamenco, Feria, and all that is Seville all over again; and I’ve even had the time to visit a museum or two in D.C., take a hike, climb some walls, and discover a bit more of Virginia on a mother-daughters’ trip.
While the travel and activities are exciting, it’s the little things about the last four months that I’ve enjoyed the most—the luxury of being able to keep my personal commitments, the ability to show up when I say I will and to be present when I do. For the first time in eight years, I can put the phone down. I can set my email aside. I can call my grandmother. My mom. My dad. My sisters. My friends. I can make dinner from scratch. I can read a book. I can just be for a bit, and not only is that okay, but little by little I am learning that it is enough. It’s in these moments, each of them just as real and beautiful as a Nicaraguan road trip, that I know I made the right decision when I decided to leave. And its these moments that make the most hopeful about whatever life for me looks like next.
Speaking of next, in the immediate future that means CROSS COUNTRY ROAD TRIP, in my favorite purple Jeep, Princess (yes, I named my Jeep Princess), and all the planning, plotting, routing, reserving, and excitement that comes with it. Especially when its starting in just one week!
So, please subscribe if you want to stay tuned, because I’d love to take you guys along for the ride as I spend the next two months trekking across the U.S. and seeing what the rest of life on leave has to offer. And, if the muse hits just right, sharing more stories from the last four months with you.
In the meantime, I’ve got over 9,000 miles of driving ahead of me, so please share all of your road trip playlist song suggestions in the comments or however else you’d like to pass them along. I’ll need them.
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