My independence. I’m often alone but rarely lonely.
I thought I was somehow broken in my 20s and 30s. Everyone else found their soul mate (often more than just one over time) as I watched the tadpoles in my pond grow legs, surprise themselves by hopping out of the water (the only environment they’d ever known) and into a new world. On their own.
At 66 now, I have memories of four continents, four languages learned, three of them largely forgotten. I’ve hiked the Andes with a shaman, sledded 10km down one of the Alps near Davos on my belly on a plastic red sled, lived (and played in) an unswept WWII mine field across the street from our house in the early 1960s (what was my mother thinking?? — that she had more kids) near Koln, Germany, explored icy black beaches in hurricane winds in Iceland,, experienced the beauty of both the dry and wet seasons near Mumbai in India, stood at the precipice of a volcano in Costa Rica and many more.
I wouldn’t give up any of it. I’ve had a good run. And I’ve still got all my fingers and toes.
I met lots of people along the way.
Don’t let “too expensive” or “not enough time” or “too scary” keep you from exploring what’s over the next hill. Go on the cheap, quit your job, go now because the world we live in (like the one I lived in) will be gone soon.