That is the end and there is so much more

I just achieved something, something big, something exciting, something I've been working on for a long time.

I finished typing up the first draft of a book about doing the TransSib with my dad and sister that I wrote in several notebooks when I was living in Vancouver before. I had trouble typing it out so I wrote it by hand.

My goal was to finish the written draft before leaving for Scotland and I did.

I left it to sit and age. To give it time and because I figured I'd be too busy what with a one year masters program.

Then I did bits and pieces since getting back.

It's easy to find reasons not to deal with it. But I want to do this, it's at the top of my list of projects.

I'm at a turning point in my life and I've been thinking about what it's important to me to do over the next few months. This is a big one.

So I sat down and I did it. Now I have to sit down and edit it until it's something worth reading.

This is how it ends right now:

“We ate dinner at a chain restaurant outside the station. Our food was cold and the service was bad. We returned home and packed out stuff one last time.

•

We got up around 5:30 am to get ready and finish packing. We made the 7:00 am Aeroexpress. It leaves every half hour and we got there five minutes before the next departure. We ran and made it but there were no seats left. We got to stand amongst the luggage.

It did give us more time at the airport, not that it really mattered. My flight left after theirs. I got to look forward to connecting in Stockholm before visiting a friend in Paris.

We had some time before their flight so we got coffee.

Then I went and bought food with my remaining roubles and waited.

I should write a better conclusion but I just don’t know what to say.

•

It was weird to be without my father and sister after all these weeks. It was also nice to be alone.

We’d travelled # kilometres together. I hadn’t come out of crisis or anything more than because my sister wanted to do it.

I’d miss the peaceful rustling of rails and unfolding of the scenery outside the window.

Paris awaited. Then life. My real life. I would need to find a job and to try to aswer that nagging question of what exactly I was doing with my life.

Over the next year as I started writing this and then typed it up I realized I didn’t really know the answers to those questions. The important thing was to do things even if the only good reason was that you wanted to and to learn to live in the moment and just be. I certainly don’t remember any Russian so that’s not what I got out of it.”

It's funny typing those words and thinking of all the things I've done since I wrote but how I still feel exactly the same. Looking for a job, uncertain about the future. Not really sure how to answer the dreaded question. "so what do you do?" I still feel like I'm drifting and seeking. Older, wiser, still not really sure what I'm doing.

Anyways, I might go out for a walk and see if any convenience stores are selling ice cream. It seems like a fitting way to celebrate this moment.