I woke up at 4:45 this morning. That is too early. It is still dark and cold outside, and if it was not for the bitter coffee that my brother Daniel made for me, I would most definitely be falling asleep right now. Atlanta is not as peaceful in the morning as the airport in Anchorage. People here seem a little bit more agitated than the people in Alaska. Maybe this is just a result of my own feelings of agitation.
Last night something finally hit me and I started to feel nervous about traveling to Costa Rica. I remember being a student in the missionary training school down here. I remember always feeling like I had done something wrong. That is how I feel now. For no rational reason, I feel like I have done something wrong and Ana will be mad at me. Maybe this is the result of being under her authority again for the first time in years, or maybe I feel this way because of the stress of leaving my parents again.
“I am tired of traveling. I just want to be home.”
My dad tells me that I am lucky, and that most people never get the opportunity to get tired of traveling.
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