A mosquito buzzes around my ear at midnight – rousing me from that elusive place between waking life and sleep. Bugger off, I think as I swat around the air looking for a little something that doesn’t want to be found. It’s hard enough getting to sleep these days without terrible tiny creatures coming to wreck the little shuteye I seem to be getting these past couple of weeks.

There are so many things to do. So many things to worry about. So many tasks that still lay unfinished. I’d ask for help – but packing isn’t something anyone can really help you with. You got to do it on your own – even if you bloody hate it. And I do bloody hate it.

A wanderer’s life is a one of perpetual transition. I find myself constantly shifting between lives – letting go, letting in, holding on. Some people I want to hold onto, but life’s forcing me to let go. Some stories lay open and unfinished – leaving me wondering if I’ll get to write another page someday. Other tales survive life’s hard tests of time and distance – the chapters still unfolding; a story without an end.

And in the midst of all of this – there is – as there must be – a story about a boy and a girl. It’s a familiar story – one that we all know. But when it’s your story, it’s always different. It feels too real, too overwhelming – an avalanche of frightening feelings come pouring through like a river you couldn’t dam up even if you wanted to.

The heart wants what it wants. The heart longs for who it longs for. Some things in life are just bigger than you. We have to go where the river takes us. We cannot afford to stay stagnant and unyielding. If we do – we do so at our own peril. Perhaps we are afraid – afraid of the stormy tides of the river. But fear has no place in a wanderer’s heart.

It is my quest to love life come what may.

But I am only human. Each departure, each parting – is like a tiny death. A flower that was once in bloom has wilted away – leaving only a memory.

And there are so many memories. People that walked in and out of your life. People who departed before their time. People that overstayed their welcome. Some of it was beautiful. Some of it hurt. All the shades of life’s many different colours – blending together in a tapestry that both destroys and creates – a fabric that’s forever changing.

And as the tapestry of my life changes, I change with it – embracing the next chapter of my human experience.

With open arms, I stand at the cliff. I do not look back. Instead, I jump. I crashed and burned the last time.

But I have a feeling that this time around I’ll finally fly.