Five days until I leave for Kansas City.
Only five days to pack up my room, to plan a driving route, to budget money for gas, food, hotels, to say goodbye to newly-made friends, to spend time with my family, to snatch just one more hour with Trevor, just a little more time at the only house that's ever felt like home.
Forgive me for my nostalgia, but the preparations of leaving for my internship at the publishing house are cementing the existence of my new reality, the one where I'm responsible for things like, you know, real life.
For so many years, I've planned for and saved for college, thought about and talked about nothing but college, so much so that I never visualized life without a syllabus outlining the exact requirements.
And now I'm done, and it's a good thing, but it feels a little like falling out of love, like you moved on and didn't realize until later that your beloved never came with you. You walk away, but leave more than a little of yourself behind, trusting in the One who's promised to give you a new direction and a new love.
So, in five days, trekking out into the unknown, with naught but a tank of gas and a heart full of God's promise to never leave me, I begin anew.
Only this time, the syllabus is mine to write.
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