I have literally been crying all day today, but not necessarily in a bad way. Nevertheless, there was just no stopping this girl.  I’m currently sitting at the gate and in the thirty minutes that I’ve left my family, a few noteworthy instances have already occurred. I’m the worst at goodbyes, and after two rounds of tearful hugs, I start to cry even more and just weep, “This is so weird!” I think that’s the best word I can come up with to describe what the heck I’m feeling.

First of all, what the HAIL. I’m moving to England? Who am I? Second of all, I can already tell that this is going to be quite the adventure. Checking my bags and getting my boarding pass alone was crazy. I knew going in that my bags weighed the equivalent to a ton of bricks. Lo and behold, my carry-on was two pounds overweight, and I was asked to switch some stuff around. The look on my face at that request must have been quite interesting, because with a quick chat on the phone, Fabio (yes, Fabio) assures the person on the other end that the “pretty passenger” was cleared to go, first checking to see if I could lift it. Yes, Fabio, I can lift 13 pounds.

Short moments later, I find myself waiting at gate 24, already hearing a buzz of British accents. On the way to the airport, I thought to myself, “I have no idea what I am doing.” I realized that this may be the first time in my life I haven’t planned or known what I am doing, but I think I am starting to like it. Just maybe. What a great time to have spontaneity, faith in the world, and my passport in my hand.


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