He is most happy when he travels.
It took a pandemic for me to understand the depth of this concept.
When he's packing, carefully shoving all those cords and plugs into his mint green expandable pouch that is a staple in our carry-on; when he lays out too many clothes on the bed to pack in the small suitcase, and then asks, "What should I carry?"; the care he takes as he decides which lenses he will need for a city sunset or a mountain landscape or long cobblestone street; his symmetry and purposeful placement of everything in his suitcase that drives me nuts; his thinking and rethinking of scenarios for which he must be ready; and then, he grabs his hat.
It's not until he puts his hat on that I know he's ready. A signal to go. “Get in the Jeep.” Head to the airport or the hit the road. He's ready. There's a look in his eyes that I only see when he’s heading out the door.
Joy. Excitement. Anticipation. The world is his. And we go. We will keep going until we write our final story.