Well it has finally set in: that magical moment when one realizes that something incredible is about to start, and undoubtedly bring forth a change for the better.
What brought this feeling; I’m not quite sure. For the longest time I was stuck in a mental limbo, trying to decide if flipping my life around was going to be a grand adventure filled with croissants, or a sure fire way to scar me mentally and leave me rocking in fetal position. In all honesty, the idea of getting on the plane to Paris felt like a ticking time bomb was strapped to me. I am just about oblivious to communication in the beautiful French language, and the idea of an American messing up seems almost a one-way ticket to being culturally shunned.
But as I woke up from a not-so-deep sleep in my stuffed animal crammed seat labeled 26B, the dreading instantly faded into an exhilarating sense of adventure and unknowing. I’m not sure if it was the dulcet sounds of people snoring, or the delicious (and not bitter at all) black coffee that I’m now imbibing, but I can tell that I’ll be just fine.