From 35,000 Feet

I’m sitting here, on American Airline’s Flight #921 from Miami to Quito and I have been cruising along blissfully until now. I’ve traveled by plane many times before, and usually I do not really think where I am going or what it will be like. Usually the trip or excursion is for a short time period. Then I arrive at my destination and I take it in stride. Even when I moved to Boston on my own, it did not hit me that I was going to Boston until I was already in Boston.

I have been reading my required readings (which I put off all summer until now) and pondering the world. Out of nowhere I was blindsided by the fact that I will be gone for four months. I will not be back at DU until January. I will not see my family and friends for all of that time.

I do not know anyone in my program. I will have to attempt to form new bonds in a language that I speak awkwardly. I do not know anything about the families I will be staying with. I do not have an address or even know what time zone I will be in. My cell phone is cut off and the next time I will have access to WiFi is still to be determined. All my connections to my world have been severed.

There is an immense panic to the idea, but it is also refreshing. With the terror comes a new beginning. It’s like standing on a high diving board. You start running forward and for that instant before you jump, you realize what you are doing. You are afraid of heights and you cannot swim that well. You are moving too fast to stop now, and all you want to do is turn around, swallow your pride, and climb back down the ladder to solid ground, what you are comfortable with. But instead, you take the final step and jump. Your adrenaline is pumping. You feel it course through your body as your heart suddenly feels like it is too big for your chest. Your body is suspended in air for only a moment until you hit the water. I am in that moment. I have not hit the water just yet, but I am surprisingly close.