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Traveling changes my perspective.
I get a chance to slow down and look at things from another angle. My cousin got married this weekend and I drove up to Massachusetts to be there.
I could have flown, but there's something about that long drive that brings me peace. I know the route like the back of my hand, so I can relax into the drive.
It's been fifteen years that I've been taking this route home and I feel like I notice different things each time. This trip brought brilliant autumn leaves. I love the freedom of leaving before the world wakes up and watching the sun rise.
Rest stops provide a moment to stop and look around.
Flying might save time, but it doesn't bring me peace of mind. I figure things out on the road. Sometimes the music blares and a belt out a few tunes and other times I listen to audiobooks or podcasts. It's time when I must be mindful and pay attention to the road...time when I think about life.
Arriving at my destination feels like an accomplishment. I left one place and I arrived in another. Seeing the happy faces of my family and getting the hugs...it's why I travel.
No one seems to understand why I drive. I get looks of confusion and furrowed brows. Questions like, "How long does it take you?" and "Wouldn't you rather fly?" greet me each and every trip. The answer is no. I wouldn't rather fly. I get to drive! Is there traffic? Yup. Construction? Sure. Bad drivers? Certainly. Driving is about the time and the quiet and stopping and looking around in a world that's so busy.