Being a Gypsy

I sat next to a business man on my flight home. After telling me about his company and all that he does the inevitable question came, "What do you do?" To which I put on my innocent surprised to be asked this question face and say in all seriousness, "I'm a gypsy," and smiled slightly. "Seriously?" he asked. "Oh, yes. I travel the world as the wind blows. I work a little here and there. Enough to fund the next adventure."

Of course, my mother is horrified every time she hears me say this. While she has supported and appreciated my life endeavors thus far, she also wants me to come across as responsible and not completely flighty.

As a self-professed gypsy, I know this season of travel and exploration is coming to an end. I have one more trip planned and then I will become "responsible" and look for a job. I'm about ready to settle into life in the States again: have a steady job, get an apartment, make friends with my neighbors and so forth. This time of mourning, or readjustment as some call it, has been an adventure of self discovery in and of itself. I have been coming to terms with ending a life I absolutely loved and starting a new one that I can and will come to love too. After spending the last month in South America, I feel much more settled and confident in my ability to live.

So, the end of my gypsy era is approaching. It isn't over yet. I still have another trip to make but it is coming to an end. In my heart, part of me will always be a gypsy. But the physical part will let it go for a time.