Flight 101 - Please Buckle Your Seatbelt

Today I fell in love with independence. I was so homesick this week. Mostly I missed my boyfriend. Which is slightly pathetic and I can't stand how true it is. But, today, for the first day, I was alone and really truly okay with it. And not even okay. I was liberated. I was in the car for hours today. And I hate driving. The thought of getting on a highway terrified me for the full first year I had my license. I would turn an hour drive into a three hour drive refusing to get on the freeway. And I drove the freeway all day today. It was freedom at seventy miles per hour. Being home gives me a safety net anytime and all the time. And I love that about home. It is incredibly safe. I have lived in the same house, in the same room, in the same bed my entire life. I don't do well with change. I think it was surprising, there considered, that I insisted on moving to San Francisco for school. I am pretty sure I have always been brave and just too safe to realize it. At home there is no reason to be daring. Daring is scaring. And I hate being scared. No, I hated being scared. But today I discovered the beauty of fear. Daredevils don't like being afraid. Adrenaline junkies don't like their hearts in their throats. No, fear feels good when it is gone. This week I had to be scared. All the time. And today it was gone. I felt like a badass. I owned that fear, kicked it to the curb and moved right toward where and what I want to be. Ready for the adventure? I think so.

Flight 344 - Welcome to San Francisco

I left home today. I said my goodbyes to my parents. And the dogs. And the cat. And the house. I cried to much. I had a headache by no later than noon. After a long drive, I hugged my boyfriend in the middle of the airport and sobbed into his shirt. And, like any good romance movie, I glanced back at him as I walked into the distance. On my third, or so, glance, he was gone. Immediately I sent him a picture of my tearstained face and realized, in a sort of unromantic reality check, that, my iPhone leaves me about as close to me as he would be otherwise. I waited and waited and waited some more, surprised by the number of travellers for a Monday afternoon. And I found a seat in the middle seat, in the middle of the plane and sat down. And I felt pains of loneliness, a real and scary “I am actually on my own” feeling.

Too tempted by the allure of Facebook, I paid a ridiculous eight dollar fee and logged on. And I realized something: solitude is outdated. I can sit on an airplane as I leave my home and talk to the people I just wished goodbye. And I find myself slightly disappointed. I suppose I expected a mature solitude of sorts. Leaving home, I wanted to feel alone. I am comforted so quickly, so thoroughly by the internet. And I think that is sad. So maybe I should and I absolutely could unplug and live without Facebook, and Instagram and Twitter, but I won’t.

And I make no effort to be misunderstood; the thought of home already makes me homesick, I can’t wait until my boyfriend gets off work so I can call and hear his voice and writing my sister as I am flying into the unknown makes me safe. But, just for a moment, I found myself nostalgic for a world without that comfort. And perhaps my wish will be granted. Almost undoubtedly it will. And when I am scared and alone, and feeling rather brave, I might just keep my computer closed and my phone off and really feel the newness of where I am and where I am going.