What was supposed to be my last day in Colombia

I leave the house cranky from lack of sleep and coffee, DaVinci in tow cracking jokes every two and a half minutes trying to wake my spirit. It’s still dark out and even though it is our first day of travel for a week long vacation (I will carry on another week to Bolivia with a friend), it is still Friday night for some in Medellin. Young people still with their Aguardiente on the streets, workers heading home after closing up shop at near 4 am and of course the minor stirrings of the homeless waking up to start their days.

I doze a bit on the constant winding hills to the airport, and only once I get a coffee and an Arequipe powdered donut can I crack a smile. I love traveling with DaVinci because he is so low maintenance and calm about everything. We happily wait to be the last few people getting on the plane and have no trouble finding space for our swollen luggage and seats together. it is still not quite light out and the wings of the plane cut through the low hanging clouds as we take off.
in the air
It honestly never fails. Whenever I am at an airport or in a plane, I just feel immense amounts of gratitude. I feel so lucky to be where I am, going to new or familiar places, spending time with amazing people in my life. I have thought to myself several times this past week: never stop doing this. Never stop enjoying the cool breezes that swoop through your hair when you are standing half out of the already packed bus doors. Never stop listening to others journeys about how you both ended up at the same dinner party. And never stop feeling grateful for the things in your life, whether that be a job, a lover, the ability to figure out public transport or the abundance of possibilities that are still left in your future.
Today was supposed to be the end of my time in Colombia. Instead, it’s quite possibly just the beginning.

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