I’m given the thrilling opportunity to study abroad. What a gift – to travel, to experience, to live. I embrace the chance and close my eyes. Running. Sprinting. Smiling, fists clenched. There’s a cliff ahead, but I continue running at full speed. I know that I’m supported. I have have wings, a beautiful set of wings, hand-crafted through years of affection and encouragement. These wings allow me to fly. When I’m weak, a strong pair of hands emerges from the sky, parts the clouds, and cradles my fall.
At first, everyone loves the feeling of the air beneath their wings. The wind tingles the skin and sweeps back the hair. We feel pleasantly overwhelmed by the refreshing feeling of untainted, crisp air. We embrace the carefree nature of our youth.
Sometimes during free-fall, the adrenaline rush wears off. We lose form and do somersaults. Sometimes, we become accustomed to the excitement of the fall and yearn for the ground, for stability. There’s turbulence. There are bumps. But, you keep flying, moving.
I’ve hit a few of these pockets.
I see a faint horizon line stretching across the infinite distance. Although still unfamiliar with the path and where it may lead, I know a destination awaits me. Remaining present is key. I can’t breathe too fast. I can’t peer ahead. I need to just be – be me – living and experiencing.
After the turbulence, the skies clear and I keep moving forward, soaring. I’ve always been afraid to fly; it feels so, so good to face a fear.