My Favorite Uncle’s Messed Up Mai Head

Uncle John David is fourth of six boys. My uncles are the finest examples of strong, successful, enduring American men. It’s easy to look up to them, and they’ve always been loving and supportive. However, Uncle John D. has taken special interest in me from a young age; teaching me chess and encouraging me in violin. He’s fun loving, a man I take after most.

Uncle John D. is well-travelled, having served the Air Force in Germany. For years, I’ve enjoyed listening to his stories of traveling in Italy, Canada, Japan, Mexico, and Australia. Thumbing through photo albums, I’d imagine the foreign smells, native foods, and the music. Uncle John D. implanted the insatiable desire to see the world in his young niece: wanderlust.
The first time I travelled abroad I was a sophomore in high school and I went to France for two weeks. On my way back, I got him a silver and gold clock in the shape of a small airplane, to commemorate his time in the Air Force. I’ve travelled Sapin, Europe, and Mexico, and lived in Chicago, Los Angeles, and soon Toronto.
I hope one day to name a son Langston John David Heath.

Very recently I’ve started wondering if my wanderlust is a virtue or a vice. It’s always excited to go on an adventure and move to a new place. I love to explore the world. But sometimes, it makes me feel like I’m scatterbrained and flighty. I’m an adult, I should be able to settle down right? Why don’t I want to stop moving until I’m 30 or something. I feel like maybe I’m running away from myself. Is it healthy to nurture this, or is this going to be a catastrophe? Am I setting myself up for failure? I hate the idea of getting old, death, settling down, owning a home, being boring. I dread not being on the cutting edge of life, but just because I’ve got wanderlust doesn’t mean I’m on he cutting edge of my life. I live in my own head way too much. I have to force myself i write it out.