Being lost. Together.

I like to travel slow. Ever so slowly. Come to think of it, I like to do most everything slowly. No hurry. I'd rather do too little than too much. But my true love has a tendency to over-schedule. To cram in too much in our travel itinerary. I'm willing to keep going for 24 hours a day. To fit in everything. But I insist that we do it slowly. She's walking the streets in a new-found city steps ahead of me. I'm lagging behind. Because I want to absorb and savor what I'm seeing. I need time. Lots of time. I don't wanna cram too much into my life. Because that means I have missed too much. Means I have spread myself thin. I like spending almost three months in Sardinia. Sure beats three weeks. But even better would be three years. I am in no hurry to get on to my next thing. The next chapter in my life. Please let me live this one. This moment. That's my appeal. Really, my demand. I refuse to be rushed. Even when we get lost, which happens frequently. I like to stay lost. For a long, long time. Because it's an opportunity to discover something new. And unexpected. And to savor it. Getting lost is a bonus. But my true love gets anxious. She wants us to find our way. Immediately. But I'm telling her. Repeatedly. That some of the best times we've ever had were being lost. Together. --Jim Broede