Take me back to Pensacola

I was looking today at a post I'd saved in draft from way back in April when I was vacationing in Florida. I don't know why I didn't just hit "Publish" on it then, it seemed complete when I read it today, but I guess in the moment I was writing it I felt I had more to say.

Today I saw palm trees, blue ocean, white sand, lifeguards and pretty drinks with little umbrellas. I walked everywhere, as my blistered feet will attest to. My feet may be giving up on me, but I am love, love, loving this trip to Pensacola. I found my hotel last night in the dark without the help of my GPS, which has decided to take a long nap. I am pretty sure I found my way by heart because this vacation has been calling to me for a while now.

I was so full of happiness today I had to hold back tears. I love the sun, the heat, the sand, the walking around in shorts and tank top over bikini and that delicious scent of sunscreen on my skin. I do not miss the extended weeks of winter in Winnipeg one bit.

I booked this trip while holding my breath but smiling. I was nervous to take a trip on my own but I was excited for the adventure it would bring. Until now I was waiting for a special guy to do a getaway like this with. I always figured I wanted to wait and share this kind of trip with someone special. This year I broke out of that box because I was tired of waiting and I wanted to do something that would grow my independence. Funny things happen when you think you are making a bold move.

"I'll miss you," he said and I smiled. I'd always wanted someone who would miss me.

I was warmed by the memories of sun and sand. I was happy for the girl who was moved to tears with her joy and I cheered for the girl who broke out of her box and took a risk. The boy who missed me then still misses me today when I am not close by.

The girl of that post was nervous about the risk she was taking, but not afraid to do it. She believed that no matter what happened, she could deal with it. Get lost? She could find her way out. Rain? She could have fun inside. Hopelessly homesick and bored? Oh well, now she knows she can't vacation solo. I love that girl. I am that girl still, somewhere.

I think the things that I am afraid of right now are the highest stakes I've ever faced. Saying, "oh well, if it doesn't work out I'll get over it, I'll figure it out," feels rather impassive, indifferent, nonchalant (playing with the thesaurus here), even if deep down I know the statement is true (minus the casual feelings about it all). Getting to the place where I am okay with that or finding another path to peace in my heart is my challenge right now.