I’m going away. Far away. Yet it’s so soon.
Maybe it’s not the distance, or the time, or the separate continent which scares me. Maybe it’s not the bare essentials, or the small group of people or the many dangers it may bring. Maybe it’s not even the faces of people who live a much humbler life than myself.
Maybe it’s the uncertainty.
Maybe it’s the fact that this is not just a sun-drenched visit to a warmer climate, but an experience that will mould and shape me. It’s the fact that I will come back and see the world in a different way; that after I have seen what is out there, I cannot go back; it can’t be the same.
Or maybe it’s the separation.
Perhaps not because of the feeling of being homesick, but the sickness of being completely unattached and separate from everyone I love for a month. Because although travelling is thrilling and beautiful and exciting and that I will have the time of my life, I won’t know how you are. I won’t know whether your day has been okay. I won’t know whether you are lonely or happy or excited or worried. I won’t know where you are or what kind of exciting things you are up to.
Because this trip means knowing that life goes on whilst I’m away, but believing that everything will still be there when I return. And that whilst I am gone, everything will be okay.
Because this is the first time that I have truly been able to make that leap. This is the first time that I have ever been so far from everything that I’m used to and everyone that I know. It’s the first time that I haven’t been in control and not felt secure. But equally, this is the first time I will truly be free. This is the first time where I can finally be away from anything that once held me down. For a month, I live and breathe in a different atmosphere in a world which is so far from the one I know.
Because when I step on that plane, I leave everything behind. And though the coming weeks may be filled with uncertainty and ambiguity, it may just possibly be the most sure of myself that I have ever been.