Travel

I have known many loves.

The love of my family: Never wavering, never questioning, ever present a short reach away. A love that taught me how to walk through the world, how to touch and be touched by my fellow people, of every creed and race.

The love of friends: Unapologetic and without judgment. A love that allowed me to grow from the best version of my awkward adolescence into the best version of my tentative womanhood. A love that taught me to laugh and gave me the safety to cry.

The love of a boy: True and honest, and young and eager, however temporary it was. A love that taught me as much in its ending as it did in its life.

Yet, of all the loves I've known, none is as much a part of me as the love of travel. A love that inspires me, guides my every footstep and dances with my future before I think to look ahead. A love that stole me as a child; creeping into my bones and infecting my marrow, and has wed me as an adult; binding with my blood cells and coursing through my veins. An ever present love, a companion when I need it most, and an ally when I don't. A friend.

A love of opportunity: the opportunity to visit with a family friend, a friendship forged in Trinidad & Tobago, borne in Texas, USA, and stretched all the way to Manila, Philippines. A love that has given me many friends, in every city I have explored. A love that allows me to bathe with elephants, cuddle with koalas, and hike with monkeys. An endless, generous love.

This love I bear is the most devoted love I have known, as much a part of me as my quick legs and restless soul. So even when I travel alone, with no companion but my duffel bag and naïve hopes, I am in the company of love: the love of travel.