Just three words.

This is a mess. Packing Photo #1.
Just in the last few days, I’ve had many a friend phone and ask with a half-knowing laugh, “Are you scared?”

Insert Sara on the other end of the phone, tazerd each time by the simple, 3-word question. In my attempt to say something profound here, I open up my mouth, and am met instead by some form of sputtering delirium, akin to the adults in Charlie Brown. (waa, eh wa wa…)

Scared? Umm…. Yeah. Hypothetically speaking.

I’ve been waffling through this week suspended in some sort of link-up between my excitement over the impending voyage, the numbness of hanging in this ostensibly endless vortex of “The Wait,” and a complete disassociation with the reality of actually leaving. In my head, it seems like the resolution of this off-kilter will come to light when I am finally at/on/with the boat… and thus it has become “The Boat,” slayer of “The Wait” and sling-shotter of all things currently unknown in to the future.

So will riding on a slingshot be like riding on a rollercoaster? Will I skid out the other end and yell triumphantly, “Let’s do that again!”?

Not sure.

The older I get, the more improbable the notion seems that we can call the future or what tomorrow brings. That said, I do pride myself on having a strong sense of intuition. And in this particular situation, my gut, head, soul, heart, body are telling me… well, not a darn cohesive thing actually. It’s a fog of my inner, optimistic M.O. psyching itself up to withstand the blows of seeing one of the most disastrous environmental issues of today roll by, for thirty-one days in a row. I can’t answer how that’s going to feel – but if it’s any indicator, I get goose bumps and want to throw up at the same time.

Other three-word quandary from the week, “Are you ready?”

#2: This stage felt HUGE!  Items of note: new cute/functional KAVU digs, survival kit a la A.Davis,
orange-crossing guard vest, and yes, that's a pink super-hero belt in the foreground.  
Sure – just as long as we’re not using standard metrics or this reader’s packing barometer. Case and point: 8 hours prior to my departure, I had yet to pack a single thing in my bags. I went to the gym in the morning, activated my new eReader, and enjoyed homemade cinnamon rolls & Mom-mosa’s (grapefruit juice & champagne) with my Mamasita. But, as a good friend reminded me earlier this week, packing in advance is not necessarily my style. I believe his words were, “Would have been worried if you were packed already!”

However, in the midst of all that this morning, I had a few triumphant moments of feeling like Jack and Jill had finally made it to the top of the hill and didn’t have to carry those blasted pails anymore. Time to run down. Dive in. LEARN. I even ran down the stairs at one point yesterday, yelling to my Mom, “I’M GOING TO AFRICA!!!!!”

For now, there’s a plateau in the middle of the downward hill called “London-Heathrow Airport layover for 13 hours.” So, as I eat my marmite & cheese sandwich today (actually quite good!), I’ll raise a glass of wintry red wine to all of you, and wish you the best of holidays to round out the year, a moment each day to kiss this crazy world in which we live, and another three words:

Bring. It. On.

#3: And it all fits in just three Osprey bags... what else could a girl want?
(Don't actually answer that.  Or, actually, let me hear your thoughts on that!)

1 comment:

  1. YES, YES, YES = my 3 words back to you upon reading your thoughts! Well done my friend, well done. I'm with you!