Ever since I arrived in Australia, my people at home have been asking me, “Liz, are you ever coming back?” I love it here, but the answer is yes. I am coming back. Last night I officially booked my flight out of Australia, so to all my friends and family at home – let out that sigh of relief – I’m not staying forever.

But I’m not coming back yet. I have months of travel ahead of me. I’m on the other side of the world, so why not see a little more of it before coming back to the States? I’ve been planning a trip through Southeast Asia with Kelsey, taking the long way home, and last night we booked the first leg of our trip. We will be flying to Borneo to stay with locals and hang out with some orangutans for a few days before heading over to Malaysia. From there we will train up through Thailand, visit the Thai islands, train through Cambodia and Vietnam, and spend our last few days in Singapore before heading back to the USA. Although the next legs of our journey are not official, I am planning on taking an even longer detour through the West Coast – visiting San Francisco, Portland, and Seattle before making way back to Boston, New York, and New Jersey. And probably not stopping there, but continuing down the East Coast. It may sound like a lot, but I believe I have the time and the money and the motivation to make it happen.

I remember meeting a guy from Israel on Christmas day who had been traveling for years. When I asked him where next, he replied, “Well, I think I’ll go home, say ‘hi’ to a few people, and then head off again!” And that’s exactly what I want to do. I’m coming back “home,” but I don’t plan to stay there forever. I don’t even plan to stay for very long. I want to say “hi” to ya’ll, but then I hope to head off again for another adventure. It’s deep-rooted in me now, and I can’t do anything about it.

But even with all the excitement, I must say I am filled with mixed emotions at the moment. I have been so looking forward to what’s ahead, but the moment I got that confirmation email for my flights to Sandakan and Kuala Lumpur, a knot grew in my stomach. Before I knew it, tears were literally pouring down my face and I started to panic. It’s not that I think I’ll go home and get stuck. I have no doubt that I will follow through with all my plans to travel because that wanderlust isn’t going away. I started to panic because I can’t believe how much I love it here. And I can’t believe I’m leaving a place that has made me happier than I’ve ever been.

I have this image of myself arriving in Boston. South Station. I’m wearing the same clothes I’ve been wearing for three months, my backpack that’s almost the same size as I am, and my guitar over my shoulder. I imagine standing there, still, out of place in a familiar place, people moving around me in a blur. And every time I imagine it, I can already feel the weight that’s going to bear down on me. I don’t think I’ll be able to breathe. It sounds really sad, but I can’t imagine being happy there. I can’t imagine feeling at home like I once did.

I think I’ve been really confused lately. I’ve been frustrated – which I’ve expressed in this blog – but the more I think about it, the more I see that frustration is coming from my lack of writing. My lack of inspiration. But I have begun to realize that to write, I’ve always needed to be on an extreme high or an extreme low to let that emotion pour out of me. Right now, life is so…normal. I haven’t been writing because I don’t feel like a traveler. I feel like I’m at home, living my normal life. I feel as if I haven’t had much to write about that is “exciting” for you all, but life doesn’t have to be exciting every day to make you happy. I’m not lost. I’ve never felt more at home. I’m just happy.