Okay so there are some days that you have nothing going on and you’re alone and the only thing you can think of to do is to go into your room and pull out your laptop.

And you write.

And maybe on another day you feel bored or at loose ends so you do the same thing. You fix your tea and prop the computer on your knees and begin to quietly fill up the empty hours.

And so on, until the days add up, one after another, and the days pass.

And then 100 blogs pass.

Yes, one hundred.

And you look back on your writing and it’s fleshed out into a thick album like a testament to your tenacity.

And you’re pleased with yourself. Because you’ve taken all of those scraps of days and marked them as your own.

Because even on those bored or depressed days, the lonely days, you squeezed out something to earmark.

Whether the words were good or not half bad, you composed them yourself.

You wrote your life down.

And you’re damn proud of that.

What could have been thin Facebook posts or random travel photos, I’ve filled up a cache of me.

Just me for the past three years.

In this little room of my own I’ve entertained my own imagination, made myself laugh, sometimes even cry.

Mostly just reflect.

In this crazy, busy world, I can appreciate that no one has the time anymore to just be. It seems like it’s this great luxury to actually close our door and let an hour or two go by.

But if I’ve learned one thing it’s that solitude is a worthwhile friend. It can hold the pause, the exhale, some moment that might be pregnant with possibility.

The chance to create, to appreciate, to be grateful.

There are days when none of these things happen, and I curse them and feel cranky and put out. But then something changes and, like a snowfall that suddenly comes down overnight, the next day is dusted with a bit of magic.

You know for me, travel has simply introduced me to myself. And I’ve come to rely on the person stored up in the laptop in times of change and uncertainty.

I believe that you have to really be searching for something whole-heartedly in order to find it and leaving home can be a step in that adventure.

So Happy 100 posts to me, may there be many more.

I’m sure working on it.

Because taking this time to reflect and compose, it’s become essential. And every time  I’m just thankful that I found some words, and I hope for the next time.

I hold my breath and make a wish that maybe there’s a hint of snow in the air.