And On We Go:Detroit

My flight from Detroit was delayed by 45 minutes, and I didn’t realize that I was changing time zones. So the hour and 15 minutes I thought I had to find my gate turned out to actually be 15 minutes. Imagine my consternation when I go to see what gate I’m flying out of and find that my flight is already boarding. I ran. 53-year-old, right knee needs replacing, 40 pounds overweight me ran from gate 76 to gate 56.

OK, it was running interspersed with lots of really fast walking interspersed with lots of semi fast walking interspersed with lots of huffing and puffing. But I made it. And then spent the next several hours coughing because my lungs just aren’t up to that sort of stuff anymore.

I didn’t even doze on the flight over, so right now it’s about three or four in the morning for me but about nine in the morning for Paris, and I was so excited and had so much stuff to do that I only got a few hours sleep the night before. I think I’m going to sleep well tonight.

I sat next to a very nice foreign exchange student, who had spent the last year as a sophomore in an American high school, and was returning to her native France. We spoke about many things. She is a violinist, and of course I gave her advice on how to get into a good music school. But we never even exchanged names.

Immigration was insane. There were probably between 200 and 300 people all waiting to get their passports checked. By the time I got down to baggage, my backpack was a sad lonely lump slowly circling on an almost empty belt. I had been worried about it making the connection. Not only had it made the connection, but the small portable charger that I accidentally left in an outside pocket was not only there but also undamaged. (I actually have two chargers with me. A large solar one my mother got me for Christmas, and a small light one that is also solar but only in emergencies. I couldn’t decide which one I wanted to bring so I brought both. I kind of figured that phone chargers would be a really important item, and Fred tells me that that is how he made all his friends.) I think I just need to start accepting that this trip is a God thing, and stop worrying about this or that. Everything is going to work out the way it is meant to work out.

Well, I’ve been taking a break, letting my phone charge, and frankly kind of avoiding my next step, which means going out of the airport and actually trying to be in Paris and find a taxi and find my hotel and all of the things that so many people tell me I am so brave for trying to do. I don’t feel brave at the moment. But even though I’m scared, and nervous, and apprehensive, I’m going to do it anyway. And isn’t that what courage really is?