In those early days, when I are not sure which side of the line to jump, when uncertainty raises its head and the wait to hear back drags its feet, I fall into dreams. Dreams of happy days ahead, places to travel and things to discover. Things to try, habits to form, traditions for our family and such. It is a beautiful phase. It takes my mind of reality. It is a hope-filled period.

Hope is a funny feeling. It fills you up and makes you float above. Like a big red balloon. Adding colour to the otherwise blue day. It flutters its wings inside the pits of your tummy, making you wonder if it is hunger or a burn. Hope fuelled day dreams makes my lips curl into those almost smiles. It paints my mind with images – vivid, colourful and spectacular.

I find myself frequenting Pinterest – planning to decorate yet another unknown temporary home. I subscribe to new mailing lists and slowly start unsubscribing from mailings relevant to my current destination. It is like that slow hiss of air from a tiny prick on the balloon. It hisses out fast and I pump it back – keeping the red ballon afloat.

I start following new people on Twitter – people who will share news of what hopefully will be my new destination. I look at the maps and roads. Houses and schools. I dream of laughter and dinner parties with new and old friends. With wanderers and family. I soak it all in and let my dream balloon soar.

I live in that phase now. The wait drags on.

This is the second post in my Move 3 series. You can read Post 1 here.