As I sit on this airplane making my way home from Prague, I can’t help but smile. It’s a long way from the anxiety, stress, and sadness I felt a few months ago on the flight home from Paris. It’s a long way from the trepidation I felt as I left home just a week ago for this trip.
I was scared to leave again. I didn’t want to spend my entire trip wishing I was somewhere else. Wishing the opportunity away. I sat on the couch when I should have already been in the car, wishing that some circumstance or another could keep me home where I feel safe and happy and loved. Unfortunately for me at the time, there was no family emergency I needed to stay home for, no inclement weather keeping the plane from taking off, and no illness that would keep me bedridden until the event was over. I had to go.
A voice in the back of my head was telling me to trust. Trust that things would be better this time. A small voice, but a voice nonetheless. I listened. I went. It was so good.