It’s 5:18am local time, Sydney, Australia. And I am up blogging. Which probably means that even though I haven’t allowed myself to realise it lately, I’m about to leave my country, my home, my world for something else. Something so undefined. Something that I guess I’ll know what it is when I see it.
I look into the darkness outside, and listen as the city starts to wake up. The lights of the Sydney Opera House are dimmed, and only the internal chandeliers illuminate the buildings bones, it structure. The buses seem to ache past my window still trying to warm their engines … much like I will be shortly when the little french patisserie around the corner finally opens for me to get myself a freshly brewed latte.
I’m nostalgic and rather deliriously poetic. Sleep deprivation will get a man every time.
In just over ten hours from now I will be buckled into my seat and soaring over Botany Bay headed towards Auckland, New Zealand. There I will change planes, get into an even bigger one, and sail through the jet stream towards America. Land of the Brave.
Some people think I am brave for what I’ve done. I know some people think I am foolish too. But right now I’m not sure how much I agree with either statement. They say that it’s what comes after the doing, that makes the doing hard to do. Not sure I agree with that either. For me, it was just about making the decision itself. Once I decided to leave and bought that ticket, everything really fell into place from there. There have been hick ups, but nothing to stop this course from holding true.
A faint orange-blue tinge lies on the horizon, a hint of light in the night sky. Lighting my way. In the stillness I believe I can fly.