September 30th, 2016.

I sat down for my first solo meal today after dropping my Mom off at the airport.

I reached out to a friend who grew up in the area for food recommendations and as she mulled over all of the possibilities, I happened upon a Whole Foods Market. Finally, some familiarity. I made my way to the hot foods bar and piled my plate high with all of the things my body — secondary to hormone fluxes, was craving. Quinoa, lots of veggies, a creamy sauce... and cornbread. (Listen, I don't make the rules.) I decided to dine in, finding comfort in the music that hummed in the background.

As I ate, all of the angst I had repressed hit me like a ton of bricks. I am A L O N E. In a foreign place, and it's not a vacation. I miss my tribe. What if this PICU is terrible? What if the nurses & doctors aren't kind? Am I good enough to be a travel nurse? Racism is seemingly ingrained in the fabric of Virginia, do the local residents hate my brown face?

Just as anxiety threatened to take me under, an elderly white woman interrupted. "Honey, have you eaten here before? Do you know where the trash is?" I smiled, and explained that I was new here too. We laughed. She asked an employee for help and then returned to collect her trash. "I'm heading that way, would you like me to take yours too?" I handed over my box, "yes please, thank you!” I exclaimed. We wished each other well as she headed for the door.

I sat a moment longer, floored by God's timeliness. Praise.