On the way

Here, for you lucky readers, is what I wrote while on the plane over here. Once the world stops spinning I'll let you know how England is for real.

I'm on my way to London.

If I wasn't actually here on a huge, uncomfortable plane, I wouldn't believe it. Or else I would think that I should be having a nervous breakdown or vomiting butterflies or something. Strangely, I'm not. I'm so not nervous, in fact, that I almost feel guilty. This is a huge deal. I just changed the time on my iPod to 4:59 (military time!) when really we all know it's 11:59 pm! I can see Reykjavik on the map of our flight, and London is blinking at me in ALL CAPS as we get clsoer.

Why am I not nervous? Maybe I'll go crazy after being forced to drink tea, but I hope not. I have a theory, as usual. England has always existed in my head. I read Narnia when I was six and lord of the Rings in middle school.* - 2 hours and 13 minutes to destination - I have spent my whole life imagining England, so it doesn't seem like the unknown to me.

Now I'm getting sleepy.

England is a person, an old friend who writes letters to me about her life, about the people she meets and the adventures they go on together. And now she's written to ask me if I would come too.

So, this flight, despite taking me away from family, friends, my church and most of my books, is also taking me towards one very dear friend, many new ones, more books than I can imagine and a part of the Church I haven't yet met. I'm not nervous.**

It appears that I will not be getting any sleep. As soon as I decided I was tired, the crew decided it was time to eat.

*I am definitely not bragging about my literary prowess (HA!). When I read those books the first few times, I had no clue what they were about.
**I really am, but..."I can't think about that now. I'll think about it tomorrow."