At times, last year felt like a whirlwind, especially when it came to travel.
We’d return home from one trip with the next already booked. There might be two or three months in between adventures, but I was constantly thinking about where I was heading next and planning what to do while I was there.
I also spent a good portion of my time stressing about airports and flights and money, and other minor things, because that is my way.
But since we took our last trip a month ago, a few days spent in a luxury cabin in the countryside an hour away from home, our travel plans have come to an end.
Although it finished the year nicely, leaving us with a fresh canvas for 2016, it does feel strange to have the whole year stretching out ahead of me with nothing booked.
Part of me likes the fact that I can relax a little and see where the year takes us, but I’m also conscious that time will slip by all too quickly and it would be nice to start making plans.
I have a few ideas of places to visit next and have been spending time scouting prices and possible destinations. I just need to book.
Sometimes it’s exhausting thinking of all the places I’d love to see, and knowing that I’ll probably never visit most of them. It’s such a big world, and the urge to explore and tick as much as possible off some list often burns within me.
But sometimes my favourite thing about a trip is when it’s over and I’m back at home, getting comfortable again, looking through my photographs and remembering all the things I experienced and feeling the burst of joy that comes with a few days of freedom.
I’m treasuring that feeling now, as I hibernate at home on a freezing cold Saturday, wondering where I should go next, but enjoying the anticipation of stretching out the decision.