The City of York

I grew up in a town called York... Things have changed a lot since then...

While my mom and I made our way North to Edinburgh it started to snow. She asked me if I wanted to take a break and pull over somewhere, which prompted a "why?" from my at-the-time contemplative self. She then proceeded to explain to me that it was snowing, and I was driving on the left side of the road--which was the right thing to do. I didn't really think much of it until then, because I was finally becoming used to driving on the opposite side of the road. Yet the simple explanation kind of spun me for a loop, causing me to actually think about what I was doing. And it had nothing to do with driving. Here I was in the UK, leaving a town called York. The last time I left a town called York with my Mom I was headed towards Issaquah, Washington, in a life-changing move that is probably responsible for just about every tremendous experience that I have ever had. This time, however, things were a little easier as I wasn't leaving anything behind, such as friends and a dog, but rather just a few toiletries--maybe. Despite its low-risk, the experience helped me recall the strides I've taken and be that much more thankful for where I'm at today, or any tomorrow.

The snow melted away, the sun faded into oblivion, and despite the weather, we made it to Edinburgh in one piece. We ate and prepared ourselves to part ways--my Mom back to London and then to Seattle; I to Dublin. I'm glad I got to see my Mom during this experience. I don't think that it would have felt right and I probably wouldn't have had as many things to think about going into the latter half of my trip--like why my theories on travel aren't always applicable to everything, or simply why I'm able to do this. Plus, it was probably really good for my back that I wasn't sleeping in sagging dorm beds for a week straight.

Thanks Mom, I hope the flight home went alright.