Chronic Condition

When I was eight years old I became infected. I was bitten by an invisible invertebrate, causing a condition I would live with always. Over time, it would implore me to discover, lure me to explore, beckon me to see. I still do not know its name, but it is real; very, very real.

It happened when my grandparents took me on a trip to the American south; Kentucky, Tennessee, Georgia and Florida. Growing up just outside Detroit, I had never been further than the Irish Hills, 50 miles southwest of my home town.

I was never the same after that.

From that time until now I have been compelled to traverse like a gypsy across the globe, in search of, but never reaching, a final destination.

My condition has intensified with age.

It has also improved my life. The more I feed it, the better person I become. I am learning, through travel, to explore other cultures, a challenge to my otherwise sheltered life.

Americans are unique people, but in our uniqueness, we sometimes forget to appreciate the similar uniqueness of others. As glad as I am to live in this country, I have found it is not the only wonderful place on earth. And we are not the only wonderful people.

So I continue to nourish this chronic condition. I also hope to spread it.

Perhaps that is why I plan trips, like this one, with people I love. I hope to pass my malady on to them, as my grandparents did with me. It is the best gift I have to give.