One, Two, Three...JUMP!

We usually don't get to philosophical on this blog, but I hope on the eve of the journey you'll forgive a little verbal wandering. A screw up with the flights has Sarah departing with Zephyr in 7 hours (ug 6am flights) and me following a little while later with Flora. Crazy upheavel on the last night but I suppose that's how it goes. In the end the few hours till liftoff were chopped in half and now we're standing on the brink, which has me thinking of a few moments from the past.

I transferred to Wesleyan when I was a junior, and at age 20 made my way across the country in an old Volvo with two old friends to live on the East Coast for the first time. I expected to find red and gold trees, harbors, and ivy, and while I found the brick and the professors, I also found out the trees didn't turn colors till the fall and what you got instead at the end of the summer was hot, sticky humidity. The inside of my miniture brick-sided room heated up during the day to the point where I realizing sitting outside in the beating sun was cooler. But what you also have in New England is ponds. On the west coast, ponds are little mudholes that form in the hills when it rains and dry up soon after, but on the East Coast, they are entirely different creatures. They are small lakes, hidden in thick forests, bordered with beaten down granite cliffs. And they are also how college students coming back to campus escape the heat.

 I went to Miller's Pond for the first time in the middle of the night, when the heat had abated just enough for the breeze through the car window to be pleasent. We walked the half mile from the parking lot by the light of the moon through the trees and finally crept forward with our toes onto the edge of the cliff. It was impossible to see the water below us in the dark expanse, much less to know if the landing was clear to jump. I felt fear in my chest and thought about backing out, but the others around me (Pete H included) assured me it was alright, and in the end I leap out into the night. For an instant it felt like I wasn't falling at all, like there was nothing to hit, but then I splashed into the freezing water, heart pounding and cool for the first time in days.

It feels a ltitle like that now, standing on the edge of a journey where we have no idea what lies on the other side but knowing that if we take that leap we'll land somewhere amazing. It's frightening to be sure, but also envigorating. 

I've posted a few shots of the very clean and empty house to ground us during our travels, to remind us of the home we've left and have to look forward to on our return in June. 

Good night everyone, the 3am alarm is rapidly approaching, as is a very big day.