31 days.
That's the amount of time it's been since I left the life I knew and moved into the unknown. I've never been a risk-taker. I've always had a plan, done the right thing at the right time, known where I was headed and what route would be the best way to get there.
For once in my life, I had none of that. But sometimes, the risk is worth the reward.
I left Lincoln, Neb. on Oct 2. As I stood in the street crying with my cousin Kelly and best friend Tammi, I had never been so unsure of something in my life. I was leaving my best friends, my job, my house and my life in Nebraska. I cried the whole way to Colorado, worried that I had made a mistake.
But I hadn't.
Although I still cry and have my moments of doubt, I know this is where I'm supposed to be. I love my life. I can leave on a Friday at 3 p.m. and be home in Alliance in time for supper. Or, I can come home to the cows in my backyard and the smell of a "ranch home." I get to see my boyfriend every single day, instead of once every few weeks. I haven't boarded a plane in more than a month. The farthest I've traveled recently is back to Lincoln to visit friends. I take a run on a country road once a day. I still talk to my best friends every day, I just hear their voices over the phone instead of in person. I've never been so excited to see them.
31 days.
For most people, it doesn't seem like a a long time. But for me, it's the time it's taken to realize that I'm OK.
I'm right where I'm supposed to be. And despite my doubts, everything HAS worked out.
It's just taken some time: 31 days.
