A lot of people have their favorite words. "Serendipity" is a popular one and "supercalifragilisticespialdocious" is another. For me, it’s "wanderlust." It’s not just about how the word sounds, but also what the word means to me. Wanderlust is, essentially, the urge to travel. It's a lust to wander.
That would be the simplest of terms, but wanderlust goes far beyond that. Sometimes, wanderlust can be so strong that even the smallest of travels, such as a bus from one city to another, is enough to get my adrenaline going. Some people understand this feeling and, to others, it seems like a simple interest in an ice cream flavor or a pizza topping.
I knew that, for me, travel was not just something that I liked, but an absolute infatuation when driving by the airport without actually getting on a plane could bring tears to my eyes. I knew when I couldn’t stop looking around at the lives of people who sit around me in the gate’s waiting area, observing how long they stare at their phone, immersed in technology, or how the grandpa is protective of his wife who is struggling with the luggage. I definitely know that it’s wanderlust when I get excited at the prospect of a flight delay so that I can have more time to observe those around me and play a “Find the Differences” game between the actions of people from one airport to another.
To live with wanderlust is something that is painful and difficult, yet special in its own way. It’s difficult because every time that I step back into my house, I feel like I am hit with a wave of sadness as I push my luggage away so that I can preserve the memories of my latest travels. I know that when I open the bag up, out will spill reminders of the past and my experience will no longer be in the present. It’s painful because I’m not in a position to always be able to travel. I’m in school and I’ve got to get my work done. I need to focus on getting a job and, if I am going to live according to what my family wants, I need to start thinking about how to settle. I know, though, that I’m going to make it a goal to find a job that allows me the freedom to expose my wanderlust, instead of being locked up and stored in my brain.
Wanderlust is special, making it worth all of the trouble because, when I do get to fulfill my craving, there is nothing like the happiness that I gain. Travel gives me a chance to step out of my comfort zone, where I suddenly become confident and I do not feel self-conscious about everything that I do. Even though I’m changing in the presence of travel, it feels as if I am becoming who I am rather than putting on a mask. I don’t feel self-centered and, instead, I’m too busy observing all that is around me, learning about the simplicity in life and making myself humbler through the process. Perhaps travel could be something more: a new hope, an escape. I don’t have to worry about that now, though, as I just follow my instinct that tells me to just keep going. Wanderlust is not just a feeling, it is a way of life.
