The In-Between

I love the in-between.

I love the excitement of change, of being on a journey, somewhere between here and gone.

Once again, I find myself in transition and loving every uncertain minute of it. I'm in a work transition, exploring how I might combine 2 passions - living in Spain and working for myself. I'm just coming out of a few uncertain months of bureaucratic limbo, waiting for Spain's stamp-wielding funcionarios to renew my residency. And now I'm soaking up my favorite time of year - a slow, warm Indian summer with chilly fall mornings and the just-installed blue plastic pool cover outside my door reminding me every day that winter's on its way.

Something is over, I think, and something else is about to begin. That's it.

I don't know that I'll be leaving Salamanca, but, still, I walk la Rua slowly these days, drinking in every sound, every smell, every familiar scene, waving at the usual faces. I wonder, am I leaving?

And OK, it shouldn't have taken 42 years to figure this out, but I suddenly understand my passion for travel. And sailboats. I simply love the in-between. I love the train trip more than the arrival, the wandering lost more than the finally being found. I love the sail enough to feel my heart sink as the next dock crawls into sight. I remember my disappointment the first time I sailed in a small lake, somewhere in Texas, with a college almost-boyfriend who desperately wanted to impress me. I was mortified, spoiled coastal child that I was. I could see the other side! I hate seeing shore. There's something about the water in between , the journey in between, the not quite knowing where I am headed or when I will get there that turns me on.

And feels like home.
Somewhere between here and gone.