The moment I finally decided I was going to California, I remember a feeling of dread in the pit of my stomach. There were so many unanswered questions. I wasn't even sure if I believed I was really going. And would I fall flat on my face and have to come back, knowing full well that my parents wouldn't help me out if that happened.

Many times I considered backing out. Even when we were still planning just how we were going to do it. I would sit cross-legged on the couch and wish something would happen that would bar me from leaving. Something beyond my control. I thought about just telling Mike and Amanda to leave without me, or not go at all, and hope that they could forgive my cowardice.

But I couldn't lose my best friends, so I kept planning with them and hoped the feelings would go away. I prayed for God to give me solace and courage that I was making the right decision. My instincts still told me this was the direction I had to go.

Then one day... I couldn't wait. In fact, it really started to bug me that I couldn't leave yet. It's only two weeks later and I can barely stand the waiting much longer. The cold weather is a constant reminder that I will soon be much farther south.

The fear is gone, only to be replaced by the worst kind of anticipation. I know it's the way someone must feel when they are headed in the right direction. I know I am headed in the right direction, and I hope that God will take care of my friends and me.

I have nothing to lose, and everything to gain by moving 2,500 miles away from my home, and I can hardly wait...