Flying high

I love heights. I think I always have. I fought my sister for the top bunk when I was little, and to this day, I claim the top bunk whenever I can. Balconies are a dream come true for me. I'm thrilled beyond belief that my mom's new bedroom has one. I've already sat on it, looking out at the countryside, pondering and meditating the things in my life, even though it's not quite completed (The boards only go about a quarter of the width right now.). I think my interest stems from the view from above. I love being able to see everything. I'm always awestruck at the patterns that sometimes jump out of nowhere. I was looking at the fields that have recently been hayed; there are haybales dotted throughout them now. I wish I could see those from above -- I'll bet they look just like freckles from a plane. There is no better vantage point than a plane. I have always loved flying. What could be cooler than being miles above the earth, looking at the ground below, and seeing everything shrink? It's magical. I especially love flying above cities at night. I'm not a city person at all, but seeing the lights shimmer, twinkle, pierce the darkness with their brilliance, is a sight not to be missed. Unfortunately, it doesn't seem likely that I'll be seeing that on my next flight. I bought my tickets to London today. I'm leaving Saturday, September 9 at 4:10 p.m. from St. Louis and arriving in London (Gatwick, not Heathrow) Sunday, September 10 at 9:00 a.m. I'll be returning from Hanover, Germany on Wednesday, January 10 at 11:00 a.m., landing in St. Louis at 7:37 p.m. the same day. Buying the tickets is both thrilling and terrifying. I can't wait to go, but this makes it feel so immediate. The tickets were $730 and are non-refundable; there's no turning back now. What will happen if my classes don't work out? What if I turn into the ultimate anti-social nerd once I arrive? What if London is too huge and intimidating for me? All the fear and anxiety that have been buried under the giddy excitement are starting to rush to the surface. They're not overwhelming, but there are a lot more reasons to be anxious now. I'm spending about an extra month abroad -- there will be language and travel difficulties, doubtless. I'm spending a few days in Spain, but the miniscule amount of Spanish I learned in high school has already disappeared. I'll be spending more time in Germany, but my German really isn't that good, either. I can read it, but my speaking is terrible. My mom also told me this morning that she and Oma are "conspiring to teach me stick shift." This is, of course, only so that I can do some of the driving while I'm in Germany. Oma's getting a bit old for it, apparently, which is rather sad. I don't know her very well, but I've always had this image of her in my mind as a strong, athletic woman. She is, but we all have our weaknesses. But I digress. The point is, they're planning to make me drive in Germany! Gah! Terrifying! I'm bad enough over here.

I know time and God will resolve these issues, but they're still very scary indeed. I hope I survive my four months abroad in one piece.