Life in Transit

Cannot believe I am on an airplane to my birthplace in a land far far away. It all seems so surreal. I just moved back to NY from Boston and then moved my baby brother cross-country to Claremont, CA for his first year at Harvey Mudd College. 

Our flight back to NY was cancelled due to the impending doom of terrible awful Hurricane Irene. What was supposed to be a quick trip turned into a week of repeatedly being put on hold with US airways. 

It was the first time I felt physically stranded, albeit being stranded in paradise. California is beautiful. 

Instead of the busy stressful NY life with hurricane warnings, I had sun, surf, friendly and relaxed people. Normally, I would kill for that type of vacation. Nevertheless, being told I can’t go home makes me uneasy. 

By the time I finally got back to NY, I had less than a week to get ready, pack, and mentally prepare for this trip. The endless to-do lists were hopelessly daunting. And yet, here I am, all packed, on my way, but not quite ready. It just has not hit me yet.

 

As I sit here in Doha, taking in my surroundings, I feel as though I’m still in NY sitting in the terminal at JFK. There is an eclectic mix of people spanning all ages and cultures. I hear the familiar tongue of Nepal and I know I am close. Only 7 hrs to go.