The final countdown
08/15/2009 at 09:56 from (47.525054, -122.048447)
We leave in one month. We bought our train tickets to Portland, San Jose, Santa Barbara, and Flagstaff a few days ago. We've begun to arrange the final details of storage and financials. I gave notice at work.
There is no turning back, now.
When we finalized our plan for this trip a year ago, I was tantalized by how far away it seemed, like a mountain in the hazy distance. No matter how well I planned or how hard I wished, I knew nothing would bring me any closer save the creeping shuffle of time. Back then, I would have gladly chosen to sleep for six months just to avoid having to endure the interminable wait.
And so, since self-induced comas were out of the question, I instead resolved to engage in as many diversions as possible. And it seems to have worked, too. With so many hours of the day taken up with swimming, work, chores, and hacking, little of my time was left for day dreaming.
Now, with mere weeks to go, the mountain looms large directly in front of me. I had been so intently focused on each step on the road that I forgot to look up and see how far the sum of those steps had carried me.
Quite frankly, I'm terrified.
If the point of this whole thing was to nudge us out of our comfort zone, mission accomplished. The reality of quitting my job, shoving my life into a 60 liter bag, and entrusting my ass to a bunch of people who speak a language I can scarcely understand is unsettling enough, in spite of the excitement. To drag my wife into it, though, is frightening.
Sure, this was just as much her idea as it was mine, and sure, she's more adept than I am at dealing with all the insanity of foreign living. But I can't shake that nagging feeling that, if something were to happen to her, it would be my fault.
And I guess this is the bail out point that people talk about, that period of doubt and distraction that keeps most people from living the life they dream about. This is the siren song of security and stability.
We're not taking the bait, though.
Because, as scary as all this is, it's still exciting as all hell. Nothing feels quite so good as a plan that ripens to perfection, and our execution has really impressed me. Of course, the curse of any project is to be too self-congratulatory too soon, but I just can't get over how remarkably well we've managed our finances and preparations.
Our bags are literally packed, sitting at the foot of our bed. The list that seemed immune to shrinking, in spite of our best efforts, has now magically diminished to only a few trivial items and choreographed financial maneuvers. We are, in a very real and material sense, ready to leave at any time.
It's a great feeling.