A Voyage of Independence
By Monica Filippone Sechrist • Photography by Monica Filippone Sechrist
As the plane angled away from the runway and my head pressed back into the seat , I peered at the ground as it fell farther beneath me and thought , “ I won ’ t be me anymore .” Sitting next to me was my boyfriend of almost three years , Sam .* After what had been several confusing , painful months of separation , we were on a non-stop flight to Paris , France , for vacation . Before we had taken a break from the relationship , I had wanted more commitment , and he had consistently balked . But here we were on a romantic flight to Paris , relationship adhesive applied , with only hope , and possibly desperation , fueling us . The flight attendant mistook us for honeymooners , and for the rest of the flight I blissfully napped on Sam ’ s shoulder . Somewhat . I still had questions . Did he really want to marry me ? Was I about to lose myself ?
While we were sightseeing at Notre Dame Cathedral , a soft rain began falling , and Sam asked me to hold his shoulder bag while he scooped out his raincoat . There at the bottom of his bag was a ring box . Had he seen me notice ? I was flummoxed . Betrayed . Before we left for our Paris and London trip , we had agreed , in therapy , that we would wait until after our trip to decide about marriage . The trip was to be anxiety-free , all major life propositions and decisions on hold . Now here I was , ambushed , the clock ticking toward an apparently imminent marriage proposal . My stomach contracted like an origami frog , and I began to silently sweat . Where and when would it happen ? The Eiffel Tower ? Sam liked over-the-top everything , so that seemed a likely location . However , it could happen at any time . Anywhere . And what would I say ? I resented my position . The trip was a bust .
A year later , single and settled into my plane seat , I was on a flight to Florence , Italy , for a two-and-a-half week solo trip through Italy . Before I left , almost everyone I knew told me that I shouldn ’ t go . A woman traveling alone ? To Europe ? It ’ s unsafe , they said . Do you even know Italian ? they asked . When first confronted with these questions , I sat still . I had already bought my plane ticket and booked several accommodations . I didn ’ t know Italian , and I couldn ’ t be certain how safe it actually was . On the other hand , coordinating trips with friends because of schedules , families , and jobs was almost impossible , and now I didn ’ t have a significant other with whom to travel . It didn ’ t seem right that I miss out on exploring the world merely because I was not seeing someone . I was determined to take myself on adventures instead of being a passenger on someone else ’ s .
* pseudonym