I'm currently in a plane, in the air, on my way to Miami and thence to Ecuador. It hasn't become real yet. It's still just weird. Certainly it doesn't feel like it's me actually doing all this. I'm listening to recordings of old church services and fellowship time afterward, trying to not be homesick, trying to swallow the lump in my throat, trying to not cry.
So far, it's been working. Right now, I'm just enjoying the view of tons of clouds outside the window. It's pure white as far as the eye can see. Fluffy, too. It looks like quilt wadding.
I tried to break out my book of notes, but I can't seem to concentrate on it. It seems so entirely surreal that it hasn't even begun to hit me yet. When I see jungle and monkeys, I'll believe it.
I'm over Kentucky, or so my mom tells me. We apparently went over some foothills. They looked like mounds of dirt. That's actually really scary.
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