Early Morning Nerves

It is about 4:15 a.m., on my day of departure to Kazakhstan. My bag has been packed and repacked several times in the past 24 hours, I have run through my internal checklist many more times than that, and yet my mind remains restless, certain that there is something I am forgetting. I did get some sleep tonight, a solid three hours. I might be able to sneak in a couple more if I lie down again in a few minutes, but the likelihood of my getting some actual rest is minimal. Still, it is hard to pinpoint what exactly I am nervous about. It isn't so much the act of flying (rarely ever occurs to me that it can be even remotely dangerous). I think I am more worried about moving myself around from place to place--getting to the right plane, having enough time in between, missing connections, the like. All things that are for the most part out of my control. But still I worry. I wouldn't be me if I didn't. 

Still, the more rational part of me recognizes that whatever happens is not going to be the end of the world. I will get where I need to go, even if it may be a bumpy ride to get to that point. I am fairly certain that in a week's time, I will be back here, beginning to document all the exciting adventures I experienced with my friend, Lauren, and I will be planning my next great escape to somewhere just as far-flung as Central Asia. (To be honest, I have already begun doing some of the research to find out where I want to go next.)