It’s 9pm and I’m sitting at my window watching the commotion outside my window. It’s the first festival in the North End since I moved in, and there is a band, fireworks and people carrying the statue of the saint about. There is cheering and culture and family and friends, all outside my window. As I sit here with a glass of wine in my hand observing this tradition and event, I can’t help but think how lucky I am. To live here, to be here, to see and experience these things. These are sights and sounds I will never forget. It’s these simple things after a long day at work that bring me so much joy.
I have always loved traveling, and I think it’s the novelty that makes me come alive. It’s the culture and the people, the experience of something outside myself that bring me so much joy. It’s the idea that so much exists outside myself but all within this world that bring me home. Home to where I am in this moment, and home to myself.
When I first moved to Boston, I did not know what to expect. But I have met people and seen placed I never dreamed of before. I have discovered a side of me I never knew existed, although believe was there all along just waiting to come out from hiding. I found home within myself, and joy within my life. Peace in all the in betweens of good, bad and ugly.
And so I keep collecting memories. Those simply daily tasks and those a little less mundane. They are engrained and filed away in this mind of mine, filling it will pictures and culture, people from all over the world. And what more can I ask, then to collect memories. Of love and with those whom I love, wherever that may be.
So go forth in your life, collecting memories along the way. Remembering to take a deep breath and take in all that surrounds you. These memories will last a lifetime, weaving the pictures of your life, and the story of your heart.