In the Rijksmuseum of Amsterdam, I reach for my water bottle and realize my entire backpack is missing.
My stomach drops, and my mouth becomes immediately, completely, excrutiatingly dry. My mind races thorough the contents of the bag, all of which are now LOST.
Some, replaceable: leg kit, phone charger, handwipes, chapstick.
Others, not:
The Monoprix totebag from my first trip to Paris.
A crocheted winter hat from my friend Roxanne.
The vintage scarf Jess brought me from Sweden.
An old Penn State towel from my dad, which I used for prosthetic adjustments.
Did I leave it behind? Where could it be?
The public tram?
One of the many bridges where we stopped to take photos?
We’d been out all day. It could be anywhere.
“I’ll give you a minute,” Wendi whispers. She can see I am imploding.
I nod. Force myself to breathe.
And in that breath, I realize that the essentials — passport, wallet, phone, and meds — are still attached to me in a small crossbody purse.
So I stand there in the dim light of the gallery, surrounded by Rembrandts and Vermeers, and talk myself down.
We might or might not find the backpack, but this is not an emergency. I am safe. I am healthy. I have everything I need. I will miss those things, but I can leave them behind.
“This will be an exercise in letting go.” I say softly, under my breath.
After 15 years, it’s a practice I’m still working on.
Fifteen years ago — on July 9, 2011 — I set off to walk a thousand miles on a prosthetic leg!
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| This was Mile 0! |
(That moment was at a different art museum!)
Back then, I counted miles to tell the story of my recovery after I was hit by a truck on my bicycle. The accident changed my body and my life. For each “mile marker” on my blog, I wrote of success, or struggle, or the smallest steps forward.
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| Here's how I measured miles! |
In 15 years, technology has changed. Immeasurably. :)
So have I.
I thought about starting fresh on Substack — as a new writer with a new story. 100% baggage-free.
I thought I might leave this blog -- and all these miles -- behind like a sunset in the rearview mirror.
And I thought about this quote from Alice Hoffman in her book, Survival Lessons:
There is always a before and an after.
My advice, travel light.
Choose only what you need most to see you through.
Yes, I aspired to travel light!
But when it came to the before and after — and all the miles since — I couldn’t leave them behind.
The miles on this blog (nearly 15,000 of them!) have shaped me into the writer, traveler, and person I am today.
I needed those stories to see me through. But how could I bring them along?
For the very first time, I turned to AI for help. And I learned a magic word, Import — to carry those miles from here to there.
It worked!
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| Thanks Claude! |
So on the 15th anniversary of those very first steps — I am taking the leap.
We’ll keep the before and the after. My journey now lives in both places!
If you like to change with the times, you can scroll through my Archive on Substack -- like a rearview mirror — to experience all the “mile markers” behind us. (There are 365 of them!)
Or you can stay here at the original A Thousand Miles. (It has some fun extras!)
Or you can start anew by "subscribing" — and get a postcard by email whenever one comes out! (It's free.)
Wendi and I retraced our steps through Amsterdam, but we didn’t find my backpack.
We did find a website called iLost & Found.
It, too, is an archive — of objects left behind on public transit in the Netherlands and beyond.
A week later, I’m in the waiting room of a Philly doctor’s office scrolling through the iLost database. It’s become my newest hobby.
Suddenly, there’s my backpack, water bottle and all!
Hurriedly, I click CLAIM THIS ITEM. I fill out the form and speed-type the contents from memory.
In 2 minutes, I receive an email back:
Good news! GVB has determined that the item belongs to you. We are happy we found your lost item!
They’re happy?? I’m practically jumping for joy!
Five days and 88 Euros later, my backpack comes home.
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| I wish it could tell me its story! |
The package is papered with Customs forms. My water bottle has been emptied. And every item is intact, including the dental floss and granola bar I’d completely forgotten about!
Once in a while — in the very best kind of story — before and after come full-circle, and lost things are found.
If you’ve walked with me or followed my journey for the last 15 years, I am SO grateful!
And if you’re new to my writing, welcome. Please come along!
Here’s to the next chapter: A Thousand Miles: Postcards from an Adaptive Traveler.
I’m excited to set off in a new direction.
Let’s see where it takes us!
Rebecca
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