The anticipation before a trip is part of the journey. The actual beginning, really.
The mind conjures its own magic about places and people and adventures thousands of miles away. It paints its own picture, days -- even months -- ahead of time. I play with the details that are still so far in the future... the jeans I'll wear on the plane -- do I have tennies that will look cute with those jeans?-- outfits for dinner, the navy bikini I'll wear to the pool, the drink I'll order poolside after that big ride that I absolutely crushed. Long thick strands of pasta enshrined and glistening in buttery sauces, tinged red with tomato, in a wide-rimmed bowl with a deep sunken round where the pasta is carefully centered, steaming. The ooo's and aaaah's as everyone eyes everyone's arriving food. The aromas of... butter and tomato, braised meats. The feel of a tannic wine in my mouth. That tremendous fatigue in my legs from hard effort on my bike earlier in the day. Deep slumber. The rise of the sun in the long lines of grapevines, and the long lines of cyprus, from my hotel window that lift yesterdays fatigue like one easy pull of a curtain.
It's already delicious, and I haven't even begun to pack.
Can you see it?