It’s been five years since my first solo trip. It was my dream to go to Machu Picchu, so I went. Well, first I went to Houston, Lima, Cuzco, Ollantaytambo and Aguas Calientes. But then I finally made it to the ancient Incan ruins of Machu Picchu. It was everything I hoped it would be and more.
Four days prior, during my last domestic layover, I got the call that my niece had been born. She was a bit early but healthy, the first of a new generation for both branches of her family tree. It was the best news on which to soar into Peru.
Exploring Machu Picchu, I met all ages – those who said they’d been dreaming of visiting their whole lives, meaning 10 or 20 years, and those who said they’d been dreaming of visiting their whole lives, meaning more like 60 or 70 years. I recall adoring the wide range of decades among these travelers, but climbing those stone steps isn’t going to get easier. I was so glad I had not waited one more day to make my dream into my reality.
Had I literally waited one more day, I would not have made my dream come true at all. I’d have been en route to Machu Picchu when I got the call that my grandfather died, a call which made me instantly choose to reroute my trip. I needed to be with my family, feeling net-neutralized in number with a birth and death in the same week, as soon as possible.
I’m writing this down for the sake of posterity, for the next time I find myself putting off until “tomorrow” something that’s important to me or someone close to me.
Book the trip. Ask the question. Sign up for the class already! Sometimes, it really does come down to just one day between an ending and a beginning, or between a dream and your new reality.
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