Again Someday

You would think that traveling would satiate your desire for travel.  You would think.  But it doesn't.  Only someone who has travelled before can understand just how much it changes you.  Just how much it awakens a need to travel again.

I never posted about Berlin.  I never posted about the time we bought sauce for Donner Kabobs instead of sour cream.  I never posted about the biggest elevator in the world (it was at least as big as my bedroom).  I never posted about the cruise we took where the audio guides didn't work, so we just made up stories to go with the buildings we sailed past.  I never posted about the time we were so thirsty we didn't even want ice cream.  I never posted about the time we rode the bus all the way to the end of the line on the top of the double-deck.  I never posted about the time we went to Paul Gerhardt's church but it wasn't nearly as exciting as we hoped.  I never posted about how the pastor at the church we went to used exactly the same cadence every time he said "Your sins are forgiven" That was the day there were fourteen baptisms, and I didn't post about that either.  I didn't post about how we went to the creepy part of town trying to find the Berlin wall that no longer exists and we ended up in some sort of big party that we got away from as soon as possible.  I didn't post about going to the 60s American diner and hoping to get wifi but never actually connecting to it.

I didn't post about anything in Berlin.  But I am now.  Because lately, the only thing I want to do is go back and the only way I can do that right now is by reliving memories.  If you ever travel, you'll understand.  "It's a dangerous business, stepping out your front door.  You step onto the road, and who knows where you might be swept off to."