That pivotal morning

1. Physical experience

• i leaned in with force as i shut the remaining inches of my red suitcase

• i stood back, awing at the production of fitting the next 18 months of my life into two red suitcases. 

• my feet were numb against the rough carpet

• i stared at my reflection in the mirror--it was the last moment in that I would be Emily, before I became known as Hermana Lewis

1. Scenes

• the bustling airport with citizen shoulder to shoulder with luggage

• the kitchen, with its sparkling white counter tops, and red bench on the wall

• the quiet ride to the airport in the dawn of the morning, my breath fogging the window pane 

• the on stares of passengers and citizens as my mother and i embraced not holding back the tears

1. Speech

• the security guards straight unchanging voice 

• the tears that ran down my mothers face spoke louder than her words

• less words were said and more hugs were given as an undeniable lump sat at the top of my throat

• i quietly and quickely wishpered "i love you," before i took my place in the long security line. 

1. Emotion in the moment

• my heart was pounding louder than my voice. 

• how many hugs could i give my parents before i'd have to say that final goodbye

• how many times could i look back and see that waving hand of my fathers

• it was too late to turn back, did i really know what i was doing?

1. People of consequence

• my parents

• my MTC companion

• the lady i sat next to on the plane--who lived in SLC

• Becca, holding her white piece of paper with my name written across it.