I am a planner. I like having a plan. My brain loves lists and schedules and goals and plans. But every time I see a plane rising into the sky, a part of me soars with it. I wonder who’s on board. I wonder where they are going. I wonder if they realize the adventure at hand, simply by traveling to a new place.

While I have a spontaneous heart, my brain allows for little that doesn’t come with a plan that has been gone over dozens of times (and often considering a rash of horrific and unlikely possibilities). And yet… I watch the planes.

There has been one time in my life that spontaneity won. It forever changed me.

In December 2013 I did something that is all too easy to say and very difficult to do: “drop everything and run”. There was some basic planning involved, but only the bare bones needed. Instead of trying to fit a getaway into my life, I made my life rearrange itself to allow for me to get away. 

Now, two years later, I am planning for a trip that actually requires a great deal of planning, but will hopefully allow for plenty of spontaneity in the moment. And while I’m looking ahead to that trip, I’m remembering this one. It’s why I watch the planes.

Over the next week I’ll be reposting my account of that spontaneous adventure. It was originally published on my previous blog nearly two years ago, but with it so firmly on my thoughts now I wanted to share here, on this blog, with new and old readers alike.

*Image taken from Pixabay, creative commons license, user skeeze