T minus two hours until I leave for the airport. Two hours after that, I’ll be gliding over the Atlantic on a Boeing 777 heading to England. I’m scared shitless.
I’ve been wanting to go to London for as long as I can remember. If you asked me to chose the one place on this earth to visit, I’d chose London hands down. And now that I’m nearing my departure, I’m absolutely terrified. Not so much of my trip, but of the flight. Something about flying miles above black water just doesn’t sit right w/ me. I’ve heard countless stories of how wonderful the flight is, but at this point, I’m just like, “Ok, get me there!”.
I’m going to miss Shel and I know this is hard for him. It won’t be nearly as hard for me because I’ll be in unfamiliar territory – places where I won’t run into memories of Shel w/ every corner I turn. It’ll be different for him because he’ll be in our home by himself.
Ok – I ought to stop procrastinating now. I’m going to update this thing every chance I get so I can have a written record of my trip…