Sometimes adventures are not what you expect them to be.
I sat on the train home from work this week and stared out of the window at the rain lashing down against the window panes next to my face. Commuters frowned and bustled past one another at each station, heads down through the rain.
I did not dream of this.
In another hemisphere my husband manages his way to work through roads strewn with debris, reaching people left homeless and roofless by the typhoon that struck the Philippines just over a month ago. Fast-paced and high energy working is required to meet the very basic needs of those affected. This is no 9 to 5.
I am fortunate to come home each evening to a warm home, my own bed, electricity and running water. Yet part of me would rather exchange it all for long hours, a concrete floor for a bed and the tangible reward of being part of a relief effort.
I know that my new role is part of the wider effort responding to global needs, but part of me misses the energy of the frontline and the unpredictability of life, the adventures it brings. It is not my time to be there at the forefront of the emergency response, but a chance to settle into a role with a different purpose. A change is as good as a rest, but I miss the breathlessness of a new adventure.
So, instead, I find I am living out my adventures vicariously.