Praying in old hotel rooms

I traveled for eight days to four different countries, from 2 hour flights to 11 hour bus rides. Naturally in a constant state of unrest. I grew more restless by the second. It was the first time I was on my own at a foreign place, I was excited and terrified.  The night before my flight, all of us drove back from my best friend's engagement to her place. The girls and I lay on her bed in the basement, exhausted after the evening's events. It was 2 AM and I was looking at train schedules to the airport, "Honestly I'm kinda scared about traveling alone.." 

"Trust me, you're gonna come back a different person." And that stayed with me all through the eight days.  The morning I got to my first b&b, I set down all my stuff and spread a towel on the floor and prayed there. This was my first prayer in a foreign place on my own, first prayer to this new life I'd soon be making my own. One where I'd be more comfortable with the idea of being alone with nothing but my thoughts. Something I'd barely done in the past. And after every prayer in every old worn hotel room, I felt lighter. And safer. I ventured out and reflected deeply on everything I saw and wrote them down, writing was my outlet. Praying was food for my mind. And that's what I carried with me back home, many people ask me why i pray. Why I believe in this strange act of physically bowing down in submission to God, I have nothing better but "It gives me peace."

                                                                                                                                                             - I feel humbled