In a commercial promoting tourisim in Michigan, of all things, a syrupy male voice says something about how easy it is to be yourself with people you don't know.
The simple truth of that has stayed with me for days now. With family and friends, I round off my edges to fit the Jerri-sized slot they hold for me. But with strangers, it's easier to be my messy, sloppy, imperfect self. I can say what I truly think or feel. I can dance and sing out loud without embarrassing anyone. I can laugh too much, too loud, too long.
I miss traveling. I miss the woman I was on the road--the one who jumped into glacial lakes and danced on tabletops, the one who sat on rocks in rivers and drank champagne on an Oregon beach with a strange man and his late wife's ashes. The one who lived out loud.
Maybe I should look for her in Michigan.