Numbers are important in our life and a lot of them tend to hold a certain significance to us, like the day Santa Claus comes through our chimneys, when the stork dropped us off or what about the age of your first kiss. How many calories that piece of cake you just ate had or when the clock strikes 11:11 and you know it’s time to make a wish. Numbers are important to us for many reasons but for myself right now the most significant numbers in my life are the ones leading up to my flight number 697 at terminal 3 that will take me away on September 2, 2016 at 12:50 p.m.
This hundredth plane I’ve been on, or at least it seems to be that, will take take to my third continent, seventh country and will keep me apart from my first home in Tucson, Arizona and all of my family and friends for exactly ten months or 43 weeks, 304 days, 7,296 hours, 437,760 minutes or 26,265,600 seconds. So like I said, numbers are important.
On this second day of September, I’ll be opening a brand new chapter of my life and while at times it seems terrifying, overwhelming and extremely unparalleled to many around me, I’ll be taking a leap so big, it’s going to take me 40 hours and 30 minutes just to get my feet onto new ground. I’ll be landing in an unfamiliar place with thousands of people I’ve never had the chance to meet and as my clock bounces ahead seven hours, I’ll know in an instant that I’m right where I’m meant to be at the time.
It’s a funny thing though, the idea of numbers and how we always feel so pressed for time, like we’re running short or even running out. And I’ll tell you right here, right now that I’ve never been good with timing. I wait for the last minute to pack, to say my goodbyes or even prepare myself for the unknown and I tend to always meet amazing new strangers, who I wish to get to know better, right before my flight takes me far away from them. So maybe I’m not so great with timing because it seems that all the right things happen at all the wrong times for me and as much as I wish I could rewind time, add some more tic to my tock, I know that when the clock strikes, it’s time for me to go.
Now, if you plan to remember any number about me, make it be three. It’s the number of going away parties I’ve had so far, or from what my managers say, that I am allowed to have, in total. It’s the number of letters in that “B word” I refuse to say because the three words of “see you later” is a better tune for me to sing. It’s the number of layovers I’ll have to take, while on my journey across the world and it’s the number of days until I arrive. Now this is the most important part when I say remember the number three, when you think of me because it’s the third day in July that I return to you. It’s also that three letter word, or as my best friend and I say, three squeezes of your hand for those three words that say how much I love you.
So, I’ll say it again, numbers are significant to me because they tell me about the things in my life that are worth remembering or labeling important. They’ll tell me it’s too early to call home because everyone's still sleeping, even though it’s half past noon for me. They’ll nudge me as each month flies by or alert me when I’ve taken too many pictures on my phone and it’s time to clear my storage. They’ll be around when my nephews turn two and five but they’ll really hit me hard when I count since the last day I saw them. But they’ll also be around to remind to me smile because at the age of 26, I’ve lived an adventurous life full of beautiful days, weeks, months and years and I have no plans to stop counting.
