Can Travel Heal You?

by Madison Butler (United States of America)

I didn't expect to find Ireland

I peer down at the stage below me in excitement and anticipation. The normal feelings that come when a long-awaited show is about to begin. However, this time it is followed by a slight wave of anxiety. I glace over to the woman beside me. Sasha was a mere stranger on the internet just a few months ago. While I trade babysitting in exchange for a home, it is strange how quickly her family has come to feel like my own. She has become like a mother to me. So despite this being my birthday gift, I desperately want her to enjoy it. I am aware that jazz is not for everyone. Just before my nerves get the best of me, the lights go down. We are transported to a place where melodies intertwine and the lights dance across the room like a dream. I close my eyes and suddenly feel myself back in middle-of-nowhere, midwestern America. I am wrapped around a boy who has me blowing snot into the sleeve of his sweater, as a silent sign that he loves me. We never vocalize such things to each other. Yet here I am, crying at seven in the morning as the weight of my decisions hits me. I realize all of the losses I’ve experienced in the past year. I realize that I am running towards an adventure that will take me miles away from home, but also away from those I love most. All for the sake of living life to the fullest. For the first time, I voice my fear that I will lose them too along the way. He gently turns on his record player, and we are surrounded by the soft sound of a standup bass. I manage to push down the question if I am running towards something, or away? He holds me until the song unfolds into beautiful chaos akin to John Coltrane. My nerves dissipate if only for a moment. However, by the end of fall, I had pushed him far enough away that he wouldn’t say goodbye before I boarded my one-way flight to Europe. Nearly six months pass as I let my eyes open to the same sound of new age jazz. I realize that I am still crying. However, this time I find myself overwhelmed by the feeling of gratitude for how far I’ve come. The ache in my chest for those I lost brings me a sort of comfort now. I left home believing that the cure to my grief was to stop seeking distractions in the form of other people. We all love to believe that traveling can solve our problems. I can attest that it doesn’t hurt, but you are still the one who has to do the work. What I had not realized, was that my inability to accept love was what had held me back all along. The instruments wrap together as the five melodies coexist simultaneously. I look over to Sasha and see that her own eyes are filled with tears as the music takes her on her own internal journey. The connection I feel to her, the room, and the music floods my body. The song comes to a close and the lights go up. Sasha grabs my arm, pulling me as close as she can and thanks me for an experience she will never forget. It’s been a year since this moment. I still receive some letters from her and her family. Maybe one day I will send her this story to thank her for a lesson that I will never forget.