Something small has been weighing me down this whole trip.
I packed very carefully, bringing only what was absolutely necessary. But I had to pack one item that seems absurd to me: my apartment keys. I carry these keys with me everywhere, around the entire globe, just so that when I return I can immediately go to my apartment. They've been across the London Bridge, to the Berlin Wall, on Red Square, around Lake Baikal, up the Great Wall, and on Tiananmen Square.
I really thought about leaving my keys with someone before I left. But I didn't. So every time I opened that particular pocket of my purse and felt those keys, I pictured my little studio apartment in Ohio, and I remembered how I feel when I am there. It's not necessarily a bad thing, but it pulled me away each time. And it's had a strange effect on me and how I view these past two months.
Pro-tip for travelers: don't bring your keys.
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