Riding Solo

I stuffed myself, my carry-on, and my “personal item” (which certainly stretched the meaning of the term) into a bathroom stall. Once I made it past the door, I realized I actually couldn’t turn around. My bags pressed tight against my body and I realized that unless I had magically learned to pee standing up, I was facing the wrong direction. Determined not to be bested by this airport bathroom, I dropped one shoulder, slid my carry-on down my arm, and turned quickly. Yeah. I’m pretty sure I would make an awesome ninja. As I hung my personal item (a giant bag that I use for farmer’s markets and as a very large purse) on a hook, I smiled to myself.

I squeezed out of the stall and fumbled toward the sink. Washing my hands, I glanced at the women who were unencumbered with luggage. Some were accompanied by friends, partners, or sisters who held their bags just inside the bathroom. On my way out, I spotted the other accomplices—husbands and fathers, arms crossed leaning against piles of luggage. Instead of feeling jealous of their companions, I felt relieved to be alone. Solo travel means for me constant adventure from mundane challenges (like my bathroom dance) to time on trains to think and write.

As I sit on the train en route to Cambridge for the first day of my internship, I can’t help but feel that I love this. Some part of my heart misses my friends and family and I can barely stand to be away from Ace (though some puppy companions here have eased the pain). But that aching doesn’t change the fact that I am already happy here. I know that doesn’t mean I always will be or that this is a permanent move I should make. I’m aware that there will be days where this is no longer fun and that if this were my “forever” it would likely become tedious and mundane.

For now, though, I am enjoying this ride alone on a train in England. The countryside is unfolding as we leave London and I can’t help but feel happy. Maybe one day I will get to share this place with one of you or someone special, but for now it’s mine and I don’t mind keeping it that way.