The boards rattled violently beneath the tires of my rented motorbike as I crossed the bridge.
For a moment, I felt so alive I couldn't help but shout. Wind rushed around my visor, swirled behind my helmet, and filled my lungs.
I'd just speed-run the UNESCO site at Mỹ Sơn, even though I overstayed my planned time in Hoi An by multiple days. I was both grateful for this life of freedom and uncertain about what comes next. Nearly a year into long-term travel, and I caught myself wondering what people back home must have been doing. Certainly not this.
A flicker of pride crept in. Was I better off than them? No, I knew better. I'd traded the certainty of a six-figure career for the privilege of chasing aliveness. I could go anywhere, do anything, and be anyone I wanted. But eating next month? That's a different story.
As the bridge rattled beneath me, I realized how thin that tradeoff sometimes felt. Distant lights glimmered in the river like reflections of the life I'd chosen—beautiful, shifting, never meant to stay.
Adventure had given me surface. Reflection, I sensed, was starting to give me depth. Feeling alive came easy in that windswept moment. But learning to stay that way will be the harder work.
