Sixty days ago, we packed a “bag of tomorrows” that felt like it would never run out. We reach into the once-heavy bag this morning and pull out the last of them. It’s the tomorrow that starts with a midnight flight to London and ends with writing the final blog in the World Wide Weeks Blog.
Today we relish a final swim, sit quietly gazing toward the Indian Ocean and its limestone towers, try to recall the already fading details of waterfalls in Yosemite, turtles in Oahu, whale pods in Wamberel, and all our far flung friends. We try to ignore the encroaching familiarity of this last tomorrow. The one that leaves our big bag empty. The one that finds a fridge empty and takes a trip to Tesco, that empties envelopes of bills to be paid and empties cases into the washing machine in our familiar kitchen. The tomorrow emptying this bag has duties, lists, routines to follow, and few, if any, new paths to discover.
Or so it seems, today.