Reunited!

 

You might remember a year ago I was starting to get acquainted with something that has become a dear friend to me on The World Race (the month or so I’ve used it this year).
Or maybe not.
If not, then the answer to the question of what I am talking about is-
My tent.

 

I don’t know how you feel about tents, but I love mine.

As dear as my teammates are to me, there are just times when I need space to get away from them.

You can only spend so much time with a certain group of people before you have to get away from them (even your own family).

The months when I’ve been able to pull out my tent, set it up, and sleep in it have been amazing.

Am I actually alone?

Not really, but my tent gives me the illusion that I am… which is half the battle.

 

In Ireland, we stayed at a camp ground and set up our tents – which I was more than happy to do.

Our month in Uganda did not exactly give us space or time to pretend like we could be alone.

I was ready for my own space.

 

And my own space I possessed until I ended up in the emergency room.

My tent, with most of my belongings, sat unoccupied at the camp ground while I tried to rest in the hotel The Awakening took place in.

By the time The Awakening was over and my squad was preparing to leave, I was back in the hospital and unable to go anywhere.

So my teammates packed up my belongings (including my dear tent) for me.

Somehow along the way, my tent got separated from the rest of my belongings, and it was not waiting for me when I got out of the hospital.

 

I thought it was gone for forever.
Maybe someone from one of the other squads had it.

Or maybe it just disappeared in all the confusion of packing up and leaving.

Either way, I boarded the plane to Bucharest tent-less.

Although I tried to console myself with the fact that I probably would not be using a tent the rest of the race anyway, it just did no good.

I had no tent.

 

Just when I was getting used to being tent-less, however, the best news in the world came from Glenalyn today.

My tent had made it to Romania ahead of me.

You couldn’t have met the happiest person in the world today (unless you somehow managed to get to Romania and meet me).

 

Now, as I type, my tent lies in its bags on the floor beside my bed.

No, I haven’t hugged it (yet). But I might before I crawl into bed tonight, because it’s one of the few constants on this journey where everything almost always changes – including me.

Welcome home, tent.