This trip has been three years in the planning. Three years of dreaming and worrying and working things out. And now it’s almost here.
Only thirteen days. Thirteen days to finish everything on the to do list. The list expands and contracts like a sea anenome, new tasks are created as fast as others are ticked off. I pinball from phoning banks to inform them of our itinerary, to buying pull ups and visiting the tip. But I like being busy and it stops me being overcome with longing for what is about to happen.
Despite my external dervish-like appearance, inside I am still and calm. I’ve done my worrying. I know things won’t all go to plan, but we’ll be fine. It’ll be good. It’ll be more than good. I carry a quiet excitement with me as I go about my days. A little bubble in my chest. I’ve waited a long time for this, and I’m ready.