the first of the last, part 1

It's my last night here on the farm, and I can't sleep. I'm a contradiction of emotions. I'm excited to go home, but sad to leave. The farm has really become a second home for me, and at times, more "home" than, well, home. But I miss my fiance, my friends, and my grandparents, (and the rest of my family too), and most of all, cell phone reception. The garden has produced some of the greatest food I've eaten in a long time, and the prospect of having to eat cafeteria food again is almost revolting. But Gram's homemade gravy is worth it. I can't get that here. I can do without getting up early, but really, it isn't any earlier than I usually get up for school. I'll miss the sheep, and they might miss me. I'll miss the song of the tree frogs lulling me to sleep, and I'll have to remember what they sound like when the construction team is "fixing" something at three a.m. I'll miss George, Annie, and Lucy, and the goats, I guess. I know the goats won't miss me, but the cats might. And I'll miss all the wonderful people I've met on my adventure here. Such wonderful, caring, kind people who have opened their lives to me to let me see what it's like in their world. I feel like I've learned so much about these people in such a short time. I know I've built bridges to wonderful people now. But I'm at the edge of a canyon, in a way, somewhere where there is no bridge. I feel ready to move on, and yet feel afraid to move at all. What if I jump, and there's nothing on the other side? But I'll never know unless I jump. So here goes, the last practice, the last warm up. The last stretches to get those legs moving fast enough to fly. And baby, I'm gonna fly.