Five of Keros

Today was supposed to be one of the days I remembered for the rest of my life.

I had imagined Machu Picchu so many times before coming here. I knew exactly what I wanted to see, where I wanted to stand, even the photographs I hoped I might take. Instead, the weather turned, clouds swallowed parts of the mountain, and the circuit I had hoped for wasn't available. I kept telling myself that I was at Machu Picchu and should be grateful, but gratitude wasn't what I felt.

I was disappointed.

That was difficult to admit. I had traveled all this way, and here I was standing somewhere I had dreamed about for years, thinking about everything I wasn't getting to experience. Every glimpse of another path made me wonder what I was missing. I could feel myself comparing the day I was actually having with the one I had created in my imagination.

Eventually, I stopped trying to make myself feel differently. I found somewhere to stand quietly and looked out across the mountains. The clouds moved through them in long white ribbons, revealing pieces of the landscape and hiding them again. It wasn't the Machu Picchu I had imagined.

It was the Machu Picchu I was standing in. I was still disappointed. I think I needed to let myself be disappointed. But underneath that feeling, something steadier remained. I was here. My feet had carried me here. The mountains were still around me, even when I couldn't see all of them.

Maybe today doesn't have to become the memory I planned for it to still become a memory worth carrying.