Sitting at the Gate

Today, I write to you from the airport in Houston, TX.

Oh yeah, we are on our way!

A week of careful packing, farewell parties, goodbye hugs, and late nights has culminated in my sitting in this chair in the soft sunshine at my next gate.

Am I nervous?

Only when I pull my passport out of my backpack and put it back, and then can’t remember where my passport is!! Only when I think “Am I forgetting anything? Did I drop something?” Then, the heart pumps quickly, the breaths come fast and short, and the head starts to spin while I pat my pockets and recheck my bag. Only when I have I find my flight number on the departures screen and end up reading the gate number four times before my brain finally registers what I am reading. And then, I start to walk away and quickly double back to read it again, cuz I forgot.

Other than that, sure, I’m cool.

My brain is having difficulty registering that I am actually on my way to Israel, that tomorrow I will not understand a word if what is being said around me, that all the dreams and ideas and plans are going to be materialized.

Nuts, no? That we dream and imagine and hope and plan for things, t and then can’t believe that they are actually coming to pass.

There! They are calling us to board! Pick up your backpack, Rebekah. Did I leave anything on the chair? Under it? Do I have my passport? Yes. Phew. OK. Let’s go.


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