In less than 48 hours, I’ll board a plane bound for Los Angeles… the start of my journey to Bolivia. I’m in the throes of preparation today, in hopes that tomorrow, I can fully devote my love and attention to my guys.
Shoes, fleece, rain jacket, ibuprofen… I have everything on the list but I feel strangely unprepared.
I’m packing relatively light for eight days of international travel.
I feel heavy.
I’m spending every spare moment smelling the fine blonde hair on Rowan’s almost-two-year-old head and I wonder if he knows I’m leaving. He’s drawn nearer to me this week.
The hugs are longer. The snuggles are deeper. The giggles are louder. The kisses are many. And I haven’t quite figured out how I’m going to leave him.
I pack my bag and my eyes get bleary wet. It’s only eight days.
I can feel change coming. It gets closer with each moment passed and I’m trying hard not to dig in my heels. I’m trying to open my hands instead – raise them high in praise and gratitude. I have said yes to going, and now it’s almost time to go.
It’s time to live out the Yes.