The night before, and I feel like a child awaiting her birthday. I am exhausted but too jittery to lie down. I run around the apartment doing meaningless things with my time, instead of, for instance, packing. My bag lies there, half-filled, taking up the entire floor space and begging for attention. I am aware I will find myself across the world with too many skirts and not enough underwear. It doesn't faze me.
A vicious storm raged across New York, and all exits are sealed. My departure lies in shivers of uncertainty; I cling to scraps of hope. If only I can make it across the water, it will all be okay.
The thought is comforting. It is the way my body leans. If only I can make it across the horizon, I will be washed clean, I will be born again. The secret to life lies in always having another ticket in your back pocket. Nothing really changes, butI believe it just as fervently every time.
I set my alarm. My body itches. The horizon beckons. I am ready to go.
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Soooo wish I could go with you. :-) I'm excited for you, it's going to be amazing.
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