Exquisitely Guided and a Winged Horse

It is hard to believe that I have spent the last fifteen-and-a-half years in school, and nearly as difficult to realize that the thirty-first half will be completed as soon as I turn in one last, finished assignment this morning.

And that will be it for now, for the next five months, unless one counts a sixteen hour drive home in the snow as the final test of the semester.

A month from today I board my first commercial flight as I leave Boston, MA for Honduras, flying to a land of Spanish and guava fruit and scanty communication, and beginning my post-school life before my schooling itself is finished. Am I frightened to embark thus? Well, perhaps, but only as jittery as any one might be while on a runaway horse that has promised not to kill you and yet is racing at full speed toward a cliff. I have chosen to believe that the Horse has wings.