Last minute hysteria

So I'm leaving next Tuesday. Next Tuesday I will rise early, fold my underwear neatly in my suitcase, eat a breakfast high in complex carbs, and leave. I will roll my luggage carefully (so as not to overset the top-heavy things) over my door-jam, load them into my mother's cinnamon-red van, and then I will be gone. My mother will drive me to the nearest airport in the negligent dark of six o'clock, and I will board a shuttle bus with large blue and yellow print on the side that says: Bell-Aire Shuttle. I have always liked blue and yellow together and so I will smile. I might forget to bring cash to tip the driver. I will feel somewhat guilty. And then I will be somewhere else. Seattle to be exact. And in Seattle I will wait on a modern looking black leather seat and wait for the moment when the friendly female voice says: "Now boarding sections A through C, sections A through C please." And I will sit straight for a moment and feel for my carry on, but I am in section D and have to wait. And sometime after all of this drama I will arrive in a large Georgia city and meet my new family. And I will live happily ever after till July when I come home for a few weeks. Amen.

I'm nervous.