It was on 2010 when I first decided to start a life on a road trip – to go to unfamiliar places, to follow unfamiliar roads, and to meet unfamiliar faces.
To many, it sounds like and awesome adventure of a lifetime. But I admit, it was all an excuse to my devastated, disappointed, depressed, and destroyed heart. I was then hoping that along the way my wounds would heal with time.
It was not a journey to discover places or meet new friends. It was not a trip to satisfy my thirst for adventure. It was not a journey in search for new horizons. I was on the road to recovery. I need a breather. I need a healing.
Eight years later, I am still on the road. I have a feeling that I am yet far from my intended destination. It is not because I’m lost, or my time was delayed. I choose to stay longer because more than myself, I saw new meanings to the journeys of our lives.
We are not alone in this road. Here, there are countless strangers becoming friends, unfamiliar homes offering shelters. There are those who are willing to share our pains, listen to our dull stories, and drink to our loneliness.
I learned that this road is not for the weak but for the strong, not for the selfish but for grateful, and not for the coward but only for the brave.
Eight years ago, I sought for a trip that may help in putting myself together again. But the road has taught me more honorable reasons and more glorious goals – to encourage the weary, to befriend the strangers, and to help the lost.
Beyond a self-centered adventure, I learned that the journey could be more meaningful and the trip more joyful if we anchor our hearts beyond the fortress of ourselves.