I moved home in May. I’d been living in Washington, D.C., interning with an incredible organization there, and experiencing life in a city. Imagine, Panera Bread in the lower level of my apartment building. What more could you want than a hot chai and a cinnamon crunch bagel? Not much, let’s just say that.
So home. Friends have been asking how it’s been to be home, and it’s been wonderful. I love to sit with my parents at night, sipping wine and watching Fox News. I’m sure they’ll be shocked to hear it since I harrass them about it so frequently. It’s just the sitting and being near them that I’m trying to soak up, while still maintaining a bit of freedom from Fox News’ compelling perspective. Having time to rest and reflect and prepare for my trip sounded so wonderful back in May, but can I be honest? The reflection lasted maybe two days. The rest quickly found me laying on the floor, staring at the ceiling, willing myself to get up, read, or at least roll somewhere. And the preparation? Well, it’s come and gone in spurts. One week I’m incredibly diligent, resolving to begin using my Franklin Covey again, but the next I’ve fallen behind, forgotten to review my tasks and probably started and finished a few books to cover my irresponisiblity with some form of accomplishment. So here is my new resolution: just get there. I don’t have to be able to write an epic tale about my months of preparation. just get there. Get the fingerprints. Get the vaccine. Get tested for HIV (apparently a requirement for entry). Buy bugspray. One step at a time.