How can you fit your entire life in a backpack?
That's a question that we've been asking ourselves lately as we get ready to leave for South America. Over the past few weeks we have slowly been selling off, giving away or throwing out practically everything we own. I am currently sitting in our apartment which has become a byzantine labyrinth of old clothes, books, kitchen utensils, newspapers, photo albums, guitars, knick-knacks, trinkets and what-have-yous. All the trappings of a modern and quite wonderful life. Our time in New York has been an eight year whirlwind of friends, music, drinking, eating, dancing, excitement and of course... more drinking. Do we really want to leave that for a land where guinea pigs are sold on the streets like hot dogs and drinking tap water is like taking your life in your own hands?
As I look around at the flotsam littering the floor I am struck with a thought; its all just stuff. It may be pretty stuff, funny or sentimental stuff, expensive stuff but its still just stuff. It it not our lives. I loved my life in New York and the friends I have made, but I will not be leaving them behind. The people we know here and the things we have done have left indelible marks on our hearts. These are badges of a life well lived and can never be sold at a yard sale or accidentally left in the back of a cab.
I guess the answer to my original question is: you can't fit your entire life in a backpack and you don't need to.
So now I'm looking forward to writing a new post in this crazy serial blog called life. I look forward to finding new places and meeting new friends along the way. Mostly I look forward to the open road, to the boundless possibilities that only come from stepping out into the unknown. I will miss the friends I've made and the life I had in New York with a burning pain in my chest, but that pain will make coming back home that much sweeter.
