“Are you ready?” seems to be the unavoidable question these days.
Implying of course, am I ready to: move to a completely foreign developing country, join a new family, leave behind everything I’ve ever known, and acquire a new language from scratch.
So the simple answer is, “absolutely not.”
As of now, I have never left the country, not even the continental US. I’ve never been away from my family for more than a month, and I know hardly any Spanish.
A month ago, I was entirely unprepared to answer even that question, let alone take this looming step into the unknown. The excitement that had pulsed through me just weeks before seemed to vanish, was packed away and pushed to the back of my brain, as to-do lists flooded in their place.
Now, as this summer drags on, I’m finding my way back to that childish excitement. I’m finally checking off those to-do lists, and letting go of the rest. I’m growing tired of the everyday traditions I’m surrounded by. I yearn for adventure and new beginnings.
I’ve come to the realization that I don’t know if I’ll ever be, quote unquote, “ready” for something like this. The adventures yet to come are mysteries to me, and that excites me. I’ve decided to embrace my naivety, to cherish my innocence. I’m not ready, and that’s ok. I will plunge head first into my fears, with nothing but the basic belief that I can do it.
From now on, I think I’ll settle with, “ready as I’ll ever be!”
