“I want to go, but it’s not like we’re friends or anything. What if I hate it? What if I get there and I’m just bored and…alone?” he said. Not loud. Just quiet, like maybe if he didn’t give the words too much power, they might disappear. He stared at the table, not at me - the way you do when you wish someone would let you off the hook.I sat in the garden across from my 19-year-old son, talking about backpacking through Europe — first on his own, and then halfway through meeting up with a family friend’s son he had known his whole life and yet, in many ways, barely knew. It’s not as if he had never travelled without us before. But this time was different. This time he would be truly alone — no friends, no familiar faces, just unfamiliar places and possibility. I wanted him to see it through my lens: new cities, long train rides, cafés, late nights surrounded by other young travellers learning life one day at a time, crooked streets that lead everywhere and nowhere, the kind of stories that don’t just happen – they’re lived. And yet, the pull of the unknown wasn’t enough to drown out the whisper of fear.“Listen to me,” I said - not gently, but with the weight and hesitation of my own parental fear. “Life isn’t about waiting for all the stars to align. It’s about aligning them yourself. If you wait, they never do. Not perfectly. Not all at once.” And as I told him to go, to get lost and discover new places; to take the chance, another voice tugged at me. The one that wanted to keep him close, safe, untouched by anything unpredictable. The one that wanted to say, “Stay here where I can protect you.” But I’ve had to learn – again and again - not to let that voice drive my decisions, not just for myself, but for the people I love more than my own life.Half annoyed, half nervous he looked at me. I could see his expression, so, I pushed a little more. “One day,” I continued, “your life will fill with responsibilities and no longer be just your own. Work. Bills. People counting on you. You’ll look back at this exact moment. The trip you could’ve taken. The places you could have gone to. The people you could have crossed paths with. The chances you had. The fear that stopped you and the sting of letting it decide for you.”My voice softened then, but I didn’t let the truth slip away. “Don’t let fear guide your decisions. Follow the voice that will make you braver, wilder - the one that wants you to live life.”He said nothing. Just sat with it, letting it sink in. And I let the silence do its work, because sometimes the most important messages just need to land. And honestly, that’s all I wanted. Fear doesn’t politely knock at your door. It kicks it open. It closes your throat and suffocates your words and presses its weight on your chest. Fear of failure. Fear of not being enough. Fear of not moving fast enough or too fast. Fear of being seen – or worse of being invisible. Fear of being alone. Fear of getting lost. Fear everything will change…or that nothing will. Fear is the background noise that never shuts up. Like a thief in broad daylight, it is quiet, slow and comes in unannounced to steal those moments that later become regrets. Every compromise, every goodbye, every lost opportunity. And parenting doesn’t remove fear - it just multiplies it. At some point though, we stop leading and start holding space. Our children stand on the edge of possibility glancing back to make sure we’re still there. It takes courage to let them lose control without losing themselves. It’s hard to watch and not fix. To stand by and see the moments when the world won’t match their plans and knowing you can’t protect them from everything. Fear doesn’t disappear because you face it or ignore it. It breathes with you. It holds your hand in the dark. I carry with me something someone once said to me, “Take your fear by the hand and walk with it into the unknown.” Not crush it. Just take its trembling hand and take that step forward anyway. Fear may seem like certainty or safety. It’s simply the moment the road meets the fog where the familiar becomes a blur. And strangely enough, it’s when certainty starts showing cracks where something deeper begins - the unraveling that is inevitable for growth.I can only speak from where I am sitting and my own experiences. I too was 19, when I found myself alone in a new country, new culture, new people. It wasn’t glamorous. It was uncomfortable. Long walks with no one to talk to. Seeing something beautiful with no one to turn to. Time eventually shifted that void into space. Space to linger on a park bench for hours and watch the sun go down without being rushed. Space to go down a street because I found it interesting. Space to follow curiosity instead of consensus. Slowly, I became a part of something. I learned new rhythms, new languages, new customs. Ordering coffee like a local in Rome; anticipating the familiar call to prayer that drifted through the air in Istanbul; Friday nights in Tel Aviv, joining the flow of people carrying flowers through the streets on their way to Shabbat dinner with friends - both new and old; finding my pace in Mexico City’s beautiful, organized chaos. It was subtle but the transformation began. For me, travelling, getting lost and finding myself out in the world disrupted my truths, handed me perspective, taught me patience, passion, tolerance and empathy. No grand gestures – just little, unexpected rituals. It shows up in that brief exchange of words with a stranger while having your coffee. Or getting a little lost with someone who is just as lost as you are. Sometimes those meetings last a day and sometimes they turn into friendships that span a lifetime. They aren’t curated moments but rather honest, unplanned and real. They are people you might have never met if you hadn’t walked out the door. People you had nothing in common with except that moment in time you shared. It is exactly in those moments where you meet yourself – and the world – in ways you would have never imagined. You become your best travel companion; your biggest cheerleader and you start to witness your own wonder. It is about finding the space to learn what you love, discover who you are, and what makes you smile when no one is around to influence the answer. It’s about the unexpected people you cross paths with along the way reminding you that the world is wide, alive and waiting for you. This isn’t just about travel. It’s about life. About the moments when people – whether at 19 or 59 – are paralyzed by their fears. The ones that say, “Maybe someday.” The ones that wait for the right time, the right people, the right circumstance and the perfect plan. The magic of travelling - and YES getting lost - is where a whole new world begins to unravel. Not out there but inside of you. A sense that everything you were clinging to was never meant to hold you forever. A place where fear becomes a witness rather than a warden. It is to dare see things differently and experience life through a new lens that keeps building who you are and who you will become. For all those wondering how this story ends. He woke up the next morning and booked his flight. He stepped away from the familiar, from his thoughts and the comfort of what he knew. He didn’t let fear steer him. It just went along for the ride in the passenger seat.He came back different. Not because the world changed - but because his world did. Angela Marotta, CEO and founder of Marotta Travel, is a travel designer with three decades of experience in the travel industry, having spent most of her career living and working in Italy and Mexico. Her mission today is to provide uniquely tailored travel experiences with purpose. https://www.marottatravel.ca/
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