Share a story about the furthest you’ve ever traveled from home.
I do not travel that much. Nor do I want to talk about my family vacations, so here is a twist to today’s prompt.
I stare at the back side of my eye lids,
determine, today I will be added to the wins.
Numb to reality, numb to the pain.
Numb to the voices calling my name.
Darkness surrounds me. I am in over my head.
The devil whispers you’ve done this, now lie in your bed.
You can’t fix it. It can not be undone.
Here let me hold your hand while you take the plunge.
Silence so loud it deafens the ears.
Loneliness so cold, a master of silent tears.
Lost and confused but still okay,
I show up and take it day by day.
Or is it hour by hour? I never can tell,
time gets distorted in this realm.
I’ve traveled near and far
By plane, train and car.
But I have never traveled the distance
I go just to sketch out on existence.
The unbounded capacity of my mind
Has the potential to trap me in another time.
A time far far away
Unreachable, disconnecting from the frame.
But you know……I’m okay.
The journey will only last a little while.
Then I’ll be back wearing a smile.
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The furthest I’ve ever traveled from home was to Malabo, an island off West Africa, for work. I’d never set foot on a tropical island before, and it turned out to be one of the most beautiful experiences of my life.
It was a place of extremes. Beneath almost every patch of grass, something seemed to crawl or scurry. The weather swung wildly—one moment scorching sun, the next, rain that felt like the entire sky had emptied itself in a single downpour.
My favorite memory was swimming in the pool at dawn, looking up to see lightning splitting the sky over the mountains. It was both humbling and unforgettable.
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I visited Eritrea to attend the wedding of a beloved niece.
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