Radio Silence Apologies

When I turned eight years old, my mom gave me a really beautiful journal to write in. Unfortunately, keeping a journal has always been guilt-induced more than anything else, and has never lasted more than a week or two. I spent last week, Sunday to Sunday, in Poland and Slovakia. I had internet access, but not in a quiet, private environment where I could sit down and sort my thoughts into words. I truly missed keeping track of the little things that happened to me, and recording the small thoughts that crawled around in my head. The whole week I was worried that I would forget what happened. Not the major daily events, but the defining realizations that crept in when I had a moment to myself, the comfortable silences shared with friends who don't feel pressured to constantly fill the lulls with laughter.

So here I am, back in the land of internet and privacy, making the grand effort to process everything that happened last week. I kept a list of things that happened each day, but looking back, the list seems threadbare at best. I've been on a lot of vacations, excursions, and adventures, but this one seems to have shaped me more than the others. I don't want to say that I feel like a different person, but I definitely do not feel the same as when I left. Something slightly soul-shifting.