By this time in two weeks, I will be flying over the African continent, hours away from landing in Uganda.
And I’m starting to get nervous.
Do I have what I need? But I don’t want to bring anything near too much. What if something bad happens? What if my host family doesn’t like me? What if I get lost? What if my mom dies of worrying about me?
And I’m starting to get excited.
I hope I get a bunch of Ugandan siblings in my host family. I haven’t spent a lot of time around little kids. We will get to travel around Uganda and Rwanda as a group for our field trips! The college kids who are studying with me are from cities in America I have been to before. True, that isn’t hard because of how many times I’ve moved in my lifetime. But still.
And I get to fly. I do so enjoy flying–except for the landing. Whenever we land, I’m reminded of the flight my family took home to Germany from Italy. It was a rainy afternoon, much colder than the heat wave we had just left. The small plane landed on the slick runway…and everyone applauded the pilot, glad to be safely deposited on land again.
And part of me wonders if I am ready. I leave days after the holidays, there’s a ton of stuff to do to get ready for my sister’s upcoming wedding, and there are a ton of people to see before I go. Is this trip the kind of thing anyone is ever truly ready for?