Finding That Flamingo

So, how did I go from navigating the world solo to finding Floyd, you wonder? You already know where our paths intersected—now, this is the story of how—the journey, when—the moment, and why—the purpose.

Nearly a decade of travel had carried me across incredible landscapes—both external and internal—each step lightening my spirit, deepening my freedom, and anchoring me more firmly in my independence. With every new horizon, I found happiness, healing, and a profound appreciation for the experiences that were shaping me. I walked with greater confidence, made choices with more conviction, and slowly but surely, I began to trust the quiet wisdom of my intuition.

More than ever, I was coming to understand myself—and in that clarity, I felt the pull toward my passions grow even stronger. I had traveled far—from the small-town girl who once dreamt beyond her borders to the young woman who had weathered the storm of loss, rebuilding after home, business, and love were taken away in an instant. But the road stretched on. She was still learning, still evolving, still moving ever closer to stepping fully into her power—the person she was always meant to be.

After nearly a decade and countless miles through distant lands, I returned to Canada to reunite with family and friends I hadn’t seen in years. I arrived without a set plan for the future, choosing instead to embrace the present and remain open to possibility. The future was still an open road, stretching wide before me, offering me the chance to continue down the path that was transforming me and filling me with joy.

As I recounted my journey to loved ones—family, friends, and curious, yet unseasoned travelers—I quickly realized that their questions seldom touched on the depth of my experiences, the moments of growth that had profoundly shaped me, or the stories that lingered in my soul. Instead, their curiosity revolved around familiarity, planning, uncertainty, and safety.

They asked about traveling as a solo woman, about loneliness, affordability, and the logistics of life on the road. And when they inquired about the places I had visited, their focus remained on the famed landmarks, the must-visit restaurants—the destinations immortalized in glossy travel magazines. While those places had their own appeal, they were rarely the ones that truly ignited my passion—the kind of experiences I sought—the unfiltered, untamed moments that made travel a journey, not just a destination.

The questions and concerns, I could easily address. I explained that, as a solo female traveler, I took extra precautions—but I had also discovered something unexpected. Fellow travelers and locals alike were often quick to offer a helping hand to a young woman, and more often than not, the places I had ventured felt safer than the bustling cities of my home country.

Loneliness occurred at times, but was not as lonely as one would imagine. There was always a community of wanderers waiting to connect, and time and again, the locals I stayed with welcomed me as one of their own—treating me like family. I spoke about the importance of planning, of preparing for the unknown, not as a foolproof strategy, but as a way to shift travel from a gamble to a journey guided by thoughtful intent. And while famed landmarks had their merit, I had come to understand that the greatest rewards often lay beyond them, on the road less traveled—where moments unfolded in ways no itinerary could predict.

I recognized that these questions and concerns came not from doubt in me, but from the limits of their own experience, shaped by fears and uncertainties unfamiliar to someone who had ventured beyond their comfort zone. Yet, despite knowing this, despite holding the answers with quiet confidence, their inquiries lingered. And slowly, I found myself asking myself those very same questions.

Had I been traveling the way I was supposed to? Had I simply been lucky with safety? Was loneliness creeping in more than I had admitted? Had I been prepared enough? Had I overlooked something essential—been chasing the wrong destinations, the wrong experiences? Was there something too unconventional about my approach? Should I change it? How would I change it?

And those questions led me into the grasp of convenience, conformity, and complacency—pulling me away from anticipation, excitement, and adventure, the very sparks that had once ignited my childlike wonder. Soon, I found myself less spontaneous, meticulously planning each step, taking unnecessary precautions that confined rather than protected me. I stayed in well-known cities, visited familiar places, and was now experiencing loneliness, despite being surrounded by larger crowds of people.

Where I had once felt exhilaration—crossing wooden bridges over rushing rivers, stepping into ancient forests, rocky caves, and abandoned ruins—I now moved mechanically through structured landscapes. Solid pavement stretched beneath my feet, towering skyscrapers cast long shadows, and neatly arranged grids of entertainment and activity surrounded me. I felt as though I were living someone else's life, and something was missing. I was missing.

So I turned to the universe, asking for guidance—and if it wasn’t too much to ask, a friend.

And that was the story of why my flamingo appeared.

And this is the story of how and when.

The following morning arrived like an echo of the restless night—and the weeks before it. Horns blared, sirens wailed, the city pulsed with its relentless hum of activity. Crowds scurried to work, faces tense with stress, moving in rhythmic urgency. I had once again detoured from my own path and followed the road that many considered more responsible, realistic, comfortable, and safe. Yet, I felt none of those things. Instead, I felt discomfort, unease—even irresponsible—for ignoring my intuition, for silencing the pull of my heart. The road had been a looping one for me, a repetitive route bringing me right back to the same place every time, feeling the same way, with no clear path ahead and no fulfilling destination to reach—And I knew that I needed to find my way back to my path and to find a way to stay on it.

And so, that morning, I wandered—as I had before, both when walking my path and searching for it. My steps carried me beyond the structured city walls, back into the open, expansive horizon, untamed and vast. With each step, I felt more like myself again, moving with intention.

To the unseasoned traveler, I may have seemed lost, but I knew I had more direction now than I had in quite some time. I was following something—my intuition, my heart—though I had yet to fully recognize or name these unseen forces.

My destination still remained unknown, but now my direction was clear.

And before long, I found myself shifting—from the rush of traffic to the rhythm of flow, from artificial asphalt, to a natural, unpaved path, and from towering structures to a vast, tropical expanse where sand met sea.

A story was unfolding—woven in whispers, carried by the waves as they murmured their secrets to the shore. The sand, warm beneath each step, spoke in its own quiet rhythm, pressing its message into the soles of my wandering feet.

Pelicans snapped their beaks in spirited assertion, while dolphins danced along the cresting waves, their whistles ringing through the salty air—almost as if they were applauding some unseen spectacle. Their playful energy stirred something deep within me, unlocking memories of childhood—of my family laughing as a mischievous pelican tugged at my brother's swim trunks, and of winter breaks spent playing basketball with dolphins at a marine park near my grandparents.

In that moment, the pelicans, with their bold antics, reminded me to laugh more often, and the dolphins, with their exuberance, showed me the importance of play—not just in childhood, but especially in adulthood.

It was clearer than ever—this was the way I was meant to travel, and this was the kind of place I was meant to explore. Safe and comfortable, requiring little planning, yet authentic and deeply rewarding.

Sure, I didn’t have human companionship at this very moment, and having someone to talk to would have been nice. But I wasn’t alone, nor was I lonely. The beach was alive, teeming with chirping birds, humming insects, rustling tropical plants, and a diverse array of seaside inhabitants—each adding to the symphony of the shore- And I felt part of it—contributing to the rhythm of it.

As I continued my stroll, I encountered an extraordinarily charismatic and charming creature—one that stirred a fond feeling within me. Not tied to a single memory, but to countless moments spent watching it, captivated by its striking appearance and animated personality.

This particular creature awakened something deeper—a sense of childlike wonder and awe, a feeling eager to be reawakened.

There it stood, tall and radiant, dazzling in the sunlight with its iconic pink hue, flailing about in a frenzy of expression—almost as though it were dancing, performing for an unseen audience.

She found herself once again captivated, hanging on to the creature’s every move. Laughing aloud, she was reminded of the species' comical role in Alice in Wonderland—their exaggerated movements and expressions adding to the whimsy of the tale.

She thought of how amusingly confused they looked while bobbing up and down for food, contrasted by their poised performances of advanced one-legged yoga poses—uniquely both graceful and delightfully goofy.

This reminded her to embrace—and perhaps even celebrate—her authenticity. With its bold color and even bolder behavior, it was unapologetically radiant, and she realized that she shouldn’t be afraid to shine either.

It was time to embrace who she truly was—even if she was more goofy and less graceful than the creature standing before her.

As she continued to watch this extraordinary being dance about, it moved closer, as if drawn to her presence. Then, with an utterly shocking welcome, it paused, smiled, and articulated—"Well, hello."

Absolutely! Here’s a refined version with enhanced clarity, rhythm, and flow:

"What are you?" he asked, tilting his head with great curiosity, his feathers catching the golden light.

"A human," I replied, wondering if that was the answer he was looking for.

"You must be Robinson Crusoe," he continued, as if he had just cracked some great mystery.

"No, I am Bree," I said, amused by his reference. "But I am an adventurer—like Robinson."

"I am Floyd—the Fabulous Flamingo," he proclaimed, puffing out his chest with theatrical grandeur. "And I’d like to go on an adventure with you!"

With infectious enthusiasm, Floyd launched into his signature flamingo flair—a dazzling display of swamp tales, quirky fun facts about its lively inhabitants, and animated recollections of the mentors who shaped his journey.

There was the parrot, who taught him the art of lively conversation, ensuring his stories would always hold an audience captive, and the turtle, a wise navigator who showed him how to chart great distances, guiding him from the swamp to the sea. From storytelling to spectacle.

"I’d love to learn some new material—some fun facts about humans! And I’d love to be the great hero of a story—a clever strategist, like the tortoise in The Tortoise and the Hare," he exclaimed, eyes gleaming with ambition.

"This might be the missing piece—the leap that takes me from storytelling to spectacle… to stardom!" he declared with dramatic flair, striking a pose as if the world were already watching.

Bree told Floyd of her great adventures—her journey from her small town to sprawling cities, then back to charming villages that offered her new experiences, adventures, and discoveries.

Some places had gifted her breathtaking sights and unforgettable experiences, while others had offered her the chance to reflect, learn, and grow. Every place leaving its mark, shaping her and the way she would journey forward.

As Floyd listened, realization struck—he could be the hero of this story. He knew exactly how to help this human.

She needed more confidence—he had enough for both of them.
She needed more balance—he was a master of that, effortlessly standing on one leg.
She needed to embrace playfulness and fun—he had a natural flair for it, effortlessly weaving exciting adventures and captivating tales.

Floyd grinned from ear to ear, already envisioning the headlines heralding his heroism—turning over potential titles for his tale, dreaming of the stories that would ripple through the swamp and echo across the sea. They would speak of the great joy he would bring and the invaluable guidance he would give the girl.

She chuckled at the hilariously bizarre yet undeniably perfect pairing, recognizing that, in every sense, she had manifested her comical companion. Then she broke out in laughter as she recalled how, when she had asked the universe for a friend, she had envisioned tall, dark, and handsome.

But what the universe sent instead was long, pink, and quirky.

And somehow, this amusing substitution was exactly what she needed..