My bags are packed. I have said the last of my good-byes. The road to here has been long, stressful, and, at times, sad. Now I am sitting alone, appropriately, in Los Angeles International Airport. I have done the best I can to get ready to leave my life for three months. I forgot my only jacket and sweater at home. Ugh. Something had to be forgotten.
I have said good-bye to my house, to my dogs, to my dad, to North San Diego County. A return here would mean a departure from my childhood things. A new apartment. A new car. A new school.
I am wistful.
The international terminals feel different from domestic ones. The mix of people around here is eclectic. I think the people left of me are Dutch. The people ahead appear… Vietnamese? There’s a gay Brit to my right and some unrecognizable accents behind me.
Just 30 minutes till boarding.