Postcards to Me

Italy was my dream place. I booked a ticket there a few years ago when I made the "List of Things I'd Regret if I Died Tomorrow." Not visiting Italy was #1.

I remember the moment I booked the trip. I put my credit card information in and pressed, "Confirm."
I looked up to my friend Pat who was sitting there working quietly and said, a little flushed, "I just did it." I was a little shocked at myself.
"What did you do this time," she asked, knowing how I am.
"I booked the trip to Italy. I just did it."
She smiled and said, "Good for you. It's about time."

I went alone by choice, and for those weeks I did anything and everything I wanted. It was the only few weeks of my life that have ever been strictly about me, and it was glorious. Every last minute of it.

I have been reliving the trip through my scrapbook this evening. I'm having myself a blast over here. :-) The couple years of life that led up to the trip had really left me with just a few friends who I was in touch with. I had been kind of isolated, to understate (yes, Joel, I know.) So, when I got to Italy, I didn't really have many people I felt like I could send postcards to. Not that they wouldn't have welcomed a postcard, it's just that one might have come out of left field.

So, I sent them to me. I told myself what I was doing, how I was feeling, and how proud I was of myself for going alone and being 'fabulous.' haha. They started showing up at my house about a week after I got back.


These little postcards have been some of the best gifts I've ever given myself.



-b