I was lying on my back in the relaxation stage of a yoga class on Friday and the instructor was blabbering on about energy and other yoga lingo I rarely understand. I am usually too busy trying to figure out how the hell my butt is supposed to balance in the air to worry about “finding my heart.” But then he said something that struck me: “The life you’re given is a gift.”
Sure, it’s a cliche, but in that moment, it felt like an epiphany. We only get one life, and it is a gift. Bad shit happens to people everyday. Just open up the newspaper or turn on the TV – or even go on Facebook. That morning, I heard about a man I knew tangentially through work who committed suicide. And so my life is a gift, even if it is not exactly the version I would like.
In a few hours, I board a flight for Peru via Panama. I am excited and apprehensive — excited for the obvious reasons. I am going to Peru! I am going to see Machu Picchu! Apprehensive because after five years of traveling with The Boyfriend, he is not exactly in the picture right now, and he has left a gnawing hole inside my heart that cannot be filled by exciting vacations.
But the life I was given is a gift, and I might as well make the most of it. So here is to traveling to a brand new continent with one of my best friends (I can’t believe we have been friends for 16 years). Here’s to seeing the wonders of the world in style (I am sitting in the business class lounger as I write these words). Here’s to enjoying the small things in life like summer days on my porch and friends that put up with my emotional swings. Here’s to family and a niece who thinks I am the best thing in the world after the iPad (also known as “tap tap!”).
Here is to living life with no regrets.