Ghosts of Spain

Flying to Bilbao next week to meet my brother, and ramping up my Spanish in anticipation. I'm reading Ghosts of Spain by Giles Tremlett, who's been the Madrid correspondent for The Guardian in London for twenty years. How delightful it is to immerse myself in this "other world" and to expand my known world. Though I grew up with many advantages, travel abroad wasn't one of them, and I knew from childhood I wanted to explore the world. Living in California made travel to Mexico and Canada easy, so of course I had traveled to those countries before college. Then I chose a profession that by its nature makes travel more truncated: psychotherapy. Still, I made sure I got out. New York, Maryland, Washington, D.C., France, England, Costa Rica, Bali, Hong Kong, well, that sort of thing. My hunger grows, however, and the list of places I want to put myself in is long. In midlife, I am aware that time is short, and there is an urgency to do what matters to me. I have so much to be happy with, a long-time husband whose company can be the best of anyone I know, two sons who are independent and decent people, a career that satisfies me intellectually and emotionally. I have a brother I adore, two exceptional friends, one I've known since first grade, the other a friend of my adulthood, to whom I can say anything. Yet I am restless, and an insomniac.