Flying solo (7/3/10)

As I look at my view from the plane, there is a lot to think about.

First, this is the first time I have been this far south. My previous most southern point, the Bahamas, is no small feat and nothing to be looked down upon, but I see this journey as my first step at completing one of my life's goals: traveling to all continents, oceans, and states. Technically, Costa Rica is in a somewhat undefinable area known as Central America. Not technically it's own continent, but it counts in my book.

Second, as I look out my window seat, the realization sets in that this is also the first time I have flown over open water. Fear subsides quickly because I know that I am in perfect safety and in His hands, so no worries. This won't be the end of my journey whatsoever, so on the the next...

Third, before boarding the plane, I take a moment to think about what I have left behind. It was the personal task of my mother (who will be referred to as Cherrie from here on out), and my Marshall (the boyfriend) to see me successfully go through security at the Atlanta airport. At first, it felt sort of babyish to have my mother accompany me there, but then as I got further and further away as I proceeded through the glass casings at Hartsfield-Jackson airport, and I really did start to tear up with the realization of how much I will miss the people close to me as I turned back to watch them become further and further away. These almost waterworks also led way to appreciation of even being able to have people that care enough about me to wake up at 4 o clock, drive an hour away, and stick around as long as they can possibly see my face. That's love.