It’s strange to think that tomorrow I’ll be getting on a plane with a group of people I’ve only just met, heading to a country I’ve never been to, to do work I’ve been dreaming about for years. The countdown isn’t abstract anymore—it’s loud and real. One day.
Tomorrow night, I’ll head to the airport, flying out of Orlando into Washington, D.C. Saturday will mark the first day of Staging—orientation and preparation with my cohort—and then on Sunday, we’ll all travel together to North Macedonia. I’ve been thinking about this for months, and yet in what feels like the blink of an eye, it’s here—departure.
These last days at home have been layered with so many emotions. I’ve been hugging friends a little tighter, memorizing the way familiar spaces feel, and soaking up every ordinary moment before life shifts. The love I’ve felt in these moments has been overwhelming in the best way.
For those of you who know me best, I lead with emotions. I feel it all big—sadness, nervousness, anxiety, excitement. This past week, it’s all been right at the surface. I’m allowing myself to sit with it instead of pushing it away, and in those waves of feeling, I keep coming back to my “why.” I want to serve. I want to grow. I want to connect. Remembering that is what steadies me.
A few weeks ago, my mom hosted a going away party. It was simple and perfect—family gathered together, laughter spilling into the late summer air, stories shared over golden evenings. It reminded me how much of me is rooted here, in the people and places that shaped me.
But these final preparations haven’t been without stress. I’ll admit—I waited until today to put all my things in my bags. And I don’t recommend it. If someone reading this is preparing for their own Peace Corps service, let me encourage you: pack earlier. I knew I wasn’t going to fit everything I wanted to take, and avoiding that truth only made it harder. Today was full of tears, sorting, and surrendering to what can come with me and what must stay behind.
Even in the smallest routines, I’ve noticed what I’ll miss. Out of the shower, I caught the familiar scent of my towels—a mix of bleached cotton and fresh detergent. For a moment, I thought about tucking a bottle of my favorite laundry soap into my suitcase, but there just isn’t room in the 100 pounds of luggage. It’s strange how something so ordinary can feel so comforting when you know it won’t be with you for a while.
Yesterday was gentler. I gave myself a small tour of Winter Haven, collecting a few souvenirs to take with me. Coffee at Richard’s. Gifts for my future host families from Andy Thornal and Davidson’s of Dundee. Orange marmalade tucked in my bag as a little piece of home.
In the past few weeks, I’ve been lucky to savor so many moments with the people I love. After the going away party, I spent time with my friend Lizzie in her new apartment, went with Kaylee to pick up her wedding dress, and shared dinner with some of my favorite women—Jenny, Ambree, Mollie, and my sister Ava. These ordinary hours have been golden. I know I’ll miss their faces for a while, but I carry them with me, and I’m excited to share this journey with all of them—and with you—through my writing.
There are still so many unknowns: What job will I have? What community will I train in? What will my host family be like? I find myself circling these questions again and again. Sometimes, the weight of not knowing feels almost too overwhelming. But right when I get lost in it, I remind myself—I don’t have to have expectations. I am submitting to the process and letting the unknowns unfold.
Uncertainty doesn’t just carry risk—it carries possibility. It holds the promise of people I have yet to meet, lessons I have yet to learn, and a life I have yet to live.
This space will be where I write about the journey ahead: the people I meet, the lessons I learn, and the honest reflections that come with stepping into something new. It will be both a bridge—not just between me and home, but between local voices and global conversations—and a preservation of the experiences to come.
And if there’s one thing I know about myself, it’s that I’ll meet it all with my heart wide open. I lead with emotions, and that’s how I’ll carry this journey too—feeling the sadness, nervousness, gratitude, and joy as they come, and trusting that every feeling has its place in shaping the story.
Here’s to service, growth, and connection—on the eve of departure.
With heart,
