It’s amazing, and a little disappointing, that I have managed to slip back into my regular life so easily after returning from my alpine trekking adventure. Less than a week has passed since I walked back into my house, carrying a suitcase, a backpack, memories, and a phone full of photos. My sleep pattern easily adjusted. I went back to my usual meal and diet routines. I’m not walking as much as I did prior to the trip because I no longer have to train for it, but my body wants its daily walk. Instead of the all-day hikes in Switzerland and Italy, I’m back to my thirty to sixty minute early morning jaunts.
The first day back, my daily habits took over, and on autopilot, brewed my cup of coffee, sat in my comfy spot, played my usual online games, and got updated on the news. I checked my calendar for the week and began to plan around it.
People have asked me if it was hard to come back home. It wasn’t. The trip was just the right amount of time away, the right amount of physicality, and the right amount of adventure. I was filled, but I was tired, and it was time to come home.
It helps that I had a brand new grandchild waiting on me, too. I left for my trip just five days after this grandson arrived, but he needed his NayNay to hold him and smell and kiss his sweet head. So I had to oblige him and come on home.
The trek was magical, though, and I do find myself becoming wistful about all the scenic beauty. How do the people who live there stand living in such proximity to so much grandeur? Do they get used to it, like I get used to my daily routine and surroundings? Do they have to remind themselves to truly look at the mountains and streams and wildflowers? Or is it all part of their background noise.
Maybe that’s why trips like this are so special to me. I’m jolted out of my own comfortable environment and can really see creation around me, especially if it’s a vastly different landscape than mine.
It’s easier for me to be fully present in an unfamiliar location. I have to be fully present, attuned to my surroundings, so that I can locate food, water, restrooms, and my bed for the night. When I’m in a different place, I am attuned to those differences, noticing different trees and flowers, different smells in the air, a different sense of the atmosphere around me.
Maybe this is why I enjoy traveling so much. The gift of being present.
Now, sitting comfortably in my spot here at home, there’s an ease that is also appealing. I know what to expect from my vistas and my days. And that’s good. I would like to be as present now as I am when I’m traveling, but that’s a harder task. One that will take more of an effort on my part.
The hum of summer insects, the soggy air, and my community—they call me to attend.