Classes start Monday.

I'm nervous.  Really, really nervous.  I'd say anxious or terrified to panicked, but I don't want to overplay it.   Every time I have an idle moment, though, my mind makes a beeline for Worry.  Is this the "right" thing to do?  How much will my family have to sacrifice?  Will this be massively inconvenient for everyone?  Will I be able to keep up?  How much reading will there be?  Will I find parking easily on Monday?  Will I come across as an idiot?  (You'd think I would be used to that one.)

I have the support of my husband and extended family, who will all probably pitch in with pick-ups or drop-offs in the next couple of years.  It doesn't matter.  I've taken it slow up until now, just trying to look at the step in front of me, not fifteen steps down the line.  But this next step feels HUGE, like one of my son's formerly beloved dinosaurs.  And I'm going to be so much older than most of my classmates, speaking of dinosaurs.  

Since my blog is mostly about this journey I've decided to take, I have to share this part.  I have to say, if I had a choice right now I might not go after all.  But the UPS man has been making daily stops at my house with textbooks.  They look interesting, for the most part, if a little PC.  (But I knew that would be the case.)  And I've gotten my sewing room in shape to accommodate all of these new books and binders.  At every step, from the GRE to interviews to orientation, I've had success and encouragement.    So I have to trust that success now, trust that I've really heard a call to do this, and I'll wait and see.