It didn’t hit me until that cab ride to the airport. I could still see the girl I was just seven weeks prior, falling asleep in the back of the car, exhausted from her overnight flight. Feeling overwhelmed by the city streets and places I didn’t recognize. When I arrived at my accommodation those weeks ago, I remembered the cab driver asking me if I knew where I was. I wanted to say, no. Not any idea at all. 

Plato was right, you know, about music being medicine for the soul. My days always begin and end with music. Sometimes my music comes from my car radio or my boyfriend’s vinyl record player. Sometimes it comes from my Bluetooth speaker, shuffling Spotify playlist after Spotify playlist. And when I’m lucky, it comes from my favorite artist or band live, as I sing their lyrics back to them in the audience. 

On a weekday afternoon in April, I had Taylor Swift in my ears and a hot vanilla latte in my hand. Seated at my university’s cafe, I had a confirmation email from American Airlines in my inbox. 

American Airlines
Subject: Your trip confirmation (RDU - LHR) 

That confirmation for a journey I was yet to set upon made me think of all the others I was yet to take abroad this summer. 

Possible destinations flooded my mind. Venice. Rome. Brussels. Amsterdam. Barcelona. Madrid.