Travel lesson: Who are you?

Friday night I had quite an adventure trying to get home from a business trip.   And as I flew through the darkness I couldn't help but notice what my actions revealed about who I really am.  And to be honest, I was a bit surprised. I was trying to get home after a business trip to Florida.  After bad weather delayed my first flight I ended up missing my connection through Atlanta and stranded at the airport after midnight with thousands of other wayward travelers.  I was automatically booked on the next available flight, late the following day.    I now had plenty of time to myself. Standing there at a loss for what to do I noticed there were still a few flights leaving that night.  And while none of them would take me home, some would take me within a few hundred miles of home.  Without thinking I began to sprint through the airport, rushing from gate to gate looking for any empty seat headed in my direction.   The Delta gate agent loading a flight to Indianapolis was kind enough to give me a seat on the last flight out for the night, and I was on my way.  I called up my company's travel office to book a rental car for the 122 mile drive from the airport to my home.  When I began to tell her my situation she immediately offered to get me a hotel in Atlanta. Stay in Atlanta and just wait?  The thought hadn't even occurred to me.  As I stood there holding my ticket the idea circled my brain.  If I just relaxed in Atlanta I could get a good nights sleep, have plenty of time to relax in the morning and even write (I've started working on my next book).  By flying out now I would be traveling all night, first by plane and then driving, just to get home twelve hours earlier.   Boarding the flight I wondered why this option hadn't even occurred to me.  Why was I so focused on just getting home. I've always admired very focused people; artists, alpinists, writers, etc.; the kind of person who really "is" something, who does something simply because it's who he is.   After my Kilimanjaro adventure people asked me.  "Are you a mountaineer?"  I love to climb mountains.  But I knew I wasn't really a mountaineer; the kind of person who doesn't choose to climb mountains, but does it simply because it's who he is.  After published Kissing Kilimanjaro: Leaving it All on Top of Africa I was asked. "Are you a writer?   I love to write, waking each morning hours before my family  just to get out a thousand words and explore a new story idea. Flying through the darkness I was sorry to realize, no, I'm not a writer.  I love to write and share stories, but it's not who I really am.  That thing that I am above all else is a father.  The idea of relaxing in a hotel room writing instead of rushing home to see my 3 and 5 year old daughters seemed unnatural to me.  I'm a father not because I choose to be, but because that's just what I am. As I type this during the short break while my daughters are supposed to be taking their naps upstairs, I can hear them secretly playing in their rooms, impatient to come out an play.  I'm impatient too, impatient to play with them again.  So I put my writing aside to go see them; not because I choose to, but because that's just who I am. Who are you?  Have you had an adventure (big or small) that taught you something about yourself?  If so, please share it.      
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