It’s funny now.
It wasn’t then.
Unlike my very flexible friend, I require a specific frame of time to acclimate myself to wherever I’m going to…and wherever I’m coming from.
It’s not always pretty.
I tend to want to be alone (by myself and with my thoughts) to get the lay of the land…before jumping in to experience whatever is happening around me.
This is fine and dandy for people like me…it’s not so good for others who are the fly by the seat of your pants types who love the exhilaration of throwing themselves into any and every new adventure.
It’s not that I don’t like trying new things…I do.
But give me time.
Time to look around.
Time to see what’s up.
Time to eat/drink/rest.
Then, only then, am I good to go.
Which is a real irony and another quirky habit my friend took note of when we traveled.
Once I got over my acclimation period, there’s no stopping me.
I’m all for the fun and the adventure.
But please, please give me at least a day to make the adjustment from where I’ve been to where I’ve landed.
So today…after nine days of traveling…I’m sitting here back at my desk trying to plan my day, my week, and slowly ease back into my regular responsibilities….in the most graceful way possible.
The acclimation period is in full swing…and how I wish my traveling buddy was sitting right here with me…she’d know what I need.
A nice hot cup of coffee.
A good breakfast.
A long solitary walk.
A gentle pat on my shoulder.
And lots of space.
And isn’t this what friends are for?
Helping us re-acclimate into whatever life throws at us?
I think so.