i’m leaving on a jet plane. i don’t know when i’ll be back again.
my sister is graciously opening her apartment to me for a little while. i do not know how long i will be in europe, but i’ll be back when i’m back.
i love traveling, but i hate travel. i love new people, new places, but i get so nervous before the trip. did i remember my passport? did i backup my files? did i bring enough socks? did i budget enough money? will i suddenly blank and forget all my german?
i get real scared, too. i get this knot in my gut before i get to the airport. i look out at the sea of people in the terminal. i sit down on the plane and fret about the luggage i checked. i sit in window seats because if the plane is going to crash, i want to see it. if a storm’s coming, i want to see it.
the night before, i pace and have this pit in my gut. i don’t know why i get so nervous. because i love traveling. i just hate the travel.