Twenty years from now, you will be more disappointed by the things you didn’t do than by the things you did do. So throw off the bowlines. Sail away from the safe harbor. Catch the trade winds in your sails. Explore. Dream. Discover.
-Twain

Yesterday, Jeremy and I went to Pike Place Market and walked around, since I hadn’t actually been inside the market since I was a kid. Exploring the many twisted floors, we were pulled into a used bookstore, mutually drawn to its tall stacks of unorganized books on tables, racks, and shelves. As we perused the shelves, sipping on coffee as the clouds rolled in over Elliott Bay, the proprietor chatted loudly with everyone in the store.

“Hey, have you ever read Margaret Atwood?” he yelled at me while I scanned the stacks of fiction.

I smiled, “Yes, I love her. I’ve been meaning to get The Blind Assassin for months now, but haven’t found a cheap copy anywhere.”

He laughed and started asking me more questions about cheap editions, then abruptly started talking to someone else. I found the “A” section, on the hunt for that book he reminded me about.

When I went up to pay for The Blind Assassin, he tried to sell me another book.

“Ahh, I shouldn’t even be buying this one. I’m leaving the country next week, and there’s only so much suitcase space, you know.”

“Oh! What makes you want to do that?” It was a genuine interest — I like people like that.

“Actually, Isabel Allende. Have you read her?” He nodded. “She’s from there, and I just fell in love with the idea of Chile.”

….I sometimes can’t believe that’s the truth. That’s all there is to it. Mark Twain made me fantasize about adventure and travel, Allende made me fall in love with Chile before setting foot there.

Faced with the very bittersweet reality of actually leaving, I find it hard to believe that I would sacrifice the very good life I’m building for myself because of their words. Especially when you take into account that I’ve never been that kind of person — I’ve always been thoughtful, methodical, and more into dreaming about what I wanted than actually making it happen. Dreaming about travel while stuck behind the counter at Macy’s. Dreaming of living in a great place on my own from the guest bedroom at my parents’. Dreaming about a room full of friends who love and accept me as is while alone in my dorm room. Always dreaming, dreaming, dreaming.

I can say now, though, that there is nothing about me now that’s the same as the Jami from a year ago. At some point last year, probably when the ex and I split for good and I was stuck in Olympia, I found the gumption to quit dreaming and start doing. Two years ago, I’d have never gotten in touch with a girl I met once four years ago and then actually meet up with her for a drink. I’d never actually apply to a program that might reject me. I’d certainly never ask my boss for more than he was giving me.

But I’ve done it all this year. I met with that girl at the bar — and now she’s one of my closest friends. I applied to that program, and now I’m off to another country for a year. I asked my boss if I could continue doing website work, and now I have an extra income in Chile.

Now, I’ll call someone on their bullshit. I’ll stand up for myself. I’ll think about grad school and starting my own business and doing all these things that I was once scared to do. And Chile — being there, living there, having to get by there on my own — that’ll help give me the strength that I need to go after all the rest of it.

And I’m making a lot of sacrifices for it. I’ll miss my niece’s first birthday. I’ll miss the wedding of one of my best friends, a wedding I was supposed to be in. Every single day, I’ll miss my family, my friends, my dog, my car, and my home.

But then I think about what I’m getting. I wonder where Mark Twain would have been if he’d never taken a job on a steamboat. And I’ll wonder where Isabel Allende would have been if she hadn’t been forced to flee Chile. They wouldn’t have their stories that I love so much.

I’m so excited to write my own story. I’m also terrified, and anxious, and sad.

But I’m ready.