The kindness of strangers

So, I left Swat yesterday. It was a lot harder than I had been letting myself believe it would be. I had been pretty calm about leaving for most of the week, enjoying seeing people and getting excited about going abroad. It wasn't until yesterday morning when I woke that it really hit me that I was leaving. I felt drained and like I was going through the day, and my last minute errands, in a fog.
It wasn't until I said goodbye to the two people that I knew it would be hardest to leave that I cried. In a way, the tears were almost comforting.
I had too many bags to easily carry, and awkwardly boarded the train. Once we arrived at Suburban station, we were notified that we would have to get off the train and board another because the track and/or train was needing to be repaired. Upon getting on the new train, a very kind woman let me have the seat she was in that was next to the entrance, and once we arrived at Market, she helped me carry one of my bags up the escalator. She asked me where I was headed with so many bags, and pointed me in the right direction to get to the bus, saying "God bless you sister."
At the bus station, I bought my ticket inside and as I tried to drag everything out the door, a kind older woman held the door for me. But just as I was getting through the doorway, the extendable handle on my suitcase broke! (The thing I'm sure weighs over 50lbs.) Stressed out about that, and trying to get it and the rest of my things under the bus, a man who was putting his things under the bus as well asked if I needed help. Normally I'm one to say "No, thank you, I'm fine," but for a change I let myself be helped. Getting on the bus was such a relief, especially since it pulled out not long after I boarded.
The bus ride was uneventful, and my emotional fog in addition to the detached feeling I get when I travel was unusual and calming, and eventually I was able to nap while listening to music. We arrived in New York just about two hours after leaving Philadelphia, and when I finally gathered my bags and was waiting to cross the street, I noticed a small Chinese girl with her mother/grandmother. The girl seemed to be 4-6 years old, and turned around to look at me. I smiled at her, and then she said "It's okay." It really struck me and took me aback. Those simple comforting words from a child who was a complete stranger were somehow the most comforting I had heard all day.
Now I'm sitting in my eldest brother's apartment, trying to unpack and resort through everything. Every once in a while, I get this anxious, restless feeling in my stomach and chest. Keeping myself busy getting things done is helping, but when I pause, the fact that in 48 hours I will be in the air, traveling to another country, just hits me. Tomorrow will be worse, when I'm home alone with nothing left to do but wait. The waiting is the hardest part, even harder than saying goodbye. At least saying goodbye has the comfort of being with someone, and being in the moment, no matter how much that moment hurts. Waiting is so lonely, and being alone with yourself and your thoughts and anxieties can be so much worse.
But soon, I will be on my way, and the adventures will continue...