The Desire To Go

The summer before Mike and I left College Station we were faced with what countless college grads are faced with: the shock of life being turned upside down. The March before I graduated I began interviewing with companies and by August I had lined up an unpaid internship with the company I now work for (and, thankfully, now get paid by). We left college with Mike still unemployed and with our respective credit card companies unsympathetic to the state of our bank account.

I imagine this transition from college to real life is as painful as it is in order to teach twenty-somethings a thing or two about gratitude and strength, those lessons that all the keg stands of the previous four years failed to impart. (Although I'm sure keg stands require a different kind of strength.) Quite honestly, nothing has humbled me more than calling in sick to work because I couldn't afford to put gas in my car and when I did buy gas, the next day, I paid for it with quarters I found in my now-in-laws' kitchen. Regardless of your education, it seems some dues must be paid.

Before we left college, we struggled with certain questions about our future. Where did we want to live? What did we want to do? Who did we want to be? How many kids did we want to have? And when those answers didn't immediately present themselves, we ended up drinking our way through that summer, scared by all the decisions we weren't ready to make yet.

(The one piece of knowledge that kept us comforted was that we knew we wanted to go forward together, and the other questions—although daunting, to be sure—were less terrifying knowing we had found the right person to face it all with.)

One day, during that summer, I walked into Mike's house and he announced—with a smirk on his face—that he wanted us to move to Alaska. "Sounds good," I said. He was obviously shocked, as it was thrown out there as a dare, little more than a joke. He had recently watched a PBS documentary about a man who made a solitary life for himself—for years—in the wilderness of Alaska. Now, I made it clear to Mike I wouldn't move anywhere without plumbing or a shoe store and he assured me Anchorage had both. Soon after, through a mixture of frustration, inspiration and avoidance, a plan was made. We decided we'd work hard for a few months, saving every penny we earned, until we had saved the decided-upon amount. And when we reached our goal, we'd gather Molly and our things and head north.

Obviously we didn't go. And why we didn't go is much more complicated than finances, which is the reason we offer to people. By no means is that reason a lie, it just isn't all there was to it. Yes, we have debt, and to some extent that debt has limited us. But we also have a family. My family is a scattered bunch, with my dad on one coast, my sister on another, my mom here with me. But a huge chunk of Mike's family is nearby. Although we try to make life decisions based on what is best for us (and for Molly; I won't tell you in which order), when you're thinking about having a child, how geographically close your family is to you comes into play. We just couldn't bring ourselves to leave, as I think we both knew we may not have come back. Although we wanted to go, we also wanted more than just an adventurous childhood for our kid. Travel would be nice, sure, but family seemed—still seems—non-negotiable. And even that, of course, isn't the whole of it.

A few months ago I stumbled upon Nothing But Bonfires, which, in my opinion, is one of the best and well-written blogs I've ever read. It's original and easily accessible. It's beautifully articulated while not being too high-brow. The author is what all great writers are—authentic, inspiring and relatable. I inhaled her archives, especially her posts logging her three-month trip around Southeast Asia. Her passion for traveling reignited something in me. I got the itch to go. Somewhere. Anywhere. And then Alaska started calling to me again.

I mentioned my itch to Mike, and although our credit card balances temporarily blinded him, I think Mike has never fully given up on Alaska. It's always stayed with him, the grand plans we once had to do something different and brave together.

And then there was the preview for Into the Wild.

Obviously we don't know what the future holds. I don't think we're emotionally or financially ready for that move just yet. For now we'll plan as many vacations as possible (on our short list: Boston, a cruise around the Galapagos, Spain and certain parts of British Columbia) and we'll suck up adventure wherever we can find it.

Maybe Alaska is in our future. Maybe it's in our future in a different way than we planned before. Maybe not, on both accounts.

The number of unanswered questions hasn't wavered much in the few years that we've been living a life void of keg stands. The one answer we did have figured out all that time ago has, thankfully, not wavered either. We'd still rather be together than apart.

But, I think it's important to remember that becoming too comfortable in life can lead to years zipping past, with real experiences becoming fewer and farther between.

I thank Holly (of NBB) for reminding me—through her stunning words—that life is what we make of it and that it doesn't present itself to us but, rather, we must search it out, grab hold of it and ingest it.

For now I'm OK simply knowing I want to see and experience more, even if I'm not entirely sure what that means.

Comments

[jodi]

I recently had that itch, and when Doug was interviewing for a job in Boston I was excited. But, alas, we are still here, in D.C.

[Raven]

My most recent adventure was back in March when we went to Az.

I can't wait to go someplace soon. I think in '08 we are doing a week long cruise with the kid for his 13th b-day.

[Kristabella]

Man, I'm so boring. I have no adventures.

After living on the West Coast for 6 years, when all my family was in Chicago, I spent all my "vacations" going home to visit family.

Now that I'm back, I'm trying to take more trips. Go places I've never been.

I'm looking forward to going to Memphis next year to meet a blogging friend from Australia!

[Kristie]

I have always admired people that can pick up and go live their live and make new memories. Someday, when my kids are older and grown I fully intend on having my own adventures. For now, I will rely on vacations that are close to home.

And, if you go to Alaska, I know a few people there that would be glad to show you around!

[slynnro]

Aaron and I have traveled a lot since we've met, but we always end up going on beach vacations. I feel like I'm supposed to want to do something more...I don't know...cultural? But I love the beach. But sometimes I feel like I'm wasting my vacation days by not doing something more enlightening than laying on the Caribbean sand.

[Nicole]

Humor me, with the week starting out the way it has for me I need humoring. We should all pack up and move to Alaska and live like the people in the movie The Village. Ahh the simple life. Wait...can we bring tequila and wine with us??

[Katie]

Wow, I'm so impressed that you could even imagine picking up and moving all the way to Alaska. I'm too afraid of change to even consider an idea like that. Perhaps if you were talking Hawaii, I would be singing a different tune :)

[alyndabear]

This too was a beautifully written post, it really was! I have the itch too, thankfully my other half has it as well. It's why I'm packing up and moving to London this December, and why he's already there! It's definitely easier to do it when you're young and there are no kids involved yet, and it's a scary and exciting step. Why not!?

[Rebecca]

If Alaska calls, you must answer. I came up pre-kid or even pre-long term relationship. and it is an awesome place. but...we are planning to move back down south in the next year or so, because my daughter needs to know her extended family. and going through pregnancy without my mom by my side was one of the hardest things i have ever done.
all that being said, though...if there is Alaska in your blood, the only way to get it out is to go to Alaska.
I'll be waiting with the wineglasses at the ready.