Moving forward.

I am so brave.

That's what I've been hearing anyway, when I tell people I am moving to Mexico for a year.

But I don't feel very brave. I feel a little queasy.

I am in D.C. typing my first Fulbright blog. I am here for a six-day conference to help prepare me for the crazy 12 months ahead. I think six days is not quite sufficient.

It was a cumbersome application which required many signatures and support from the school and community. My friend made me rewrite my essay about 8 times - he's relentless when it comes to wordiness and redundancy (is that redundant?). He probably is critiquing my writing abilities as he reads this. Stop it.

Today I spent the day with my fellow Fulbrighters, seven "brave" Americans and eight even braver Mexicans. We talked about cultural differences, our fears, our hopes and why we would choose to take on such a challenge.

Why would I choose to leave my family, friends, and all that is comfortable?

One of our facilitators presented a profound statement today. Americans value motion. She was right - we are always moving, looking for the bigger, better, faster way to happiness and success. I applied for the Fulbright Teacher Exchange program in October of last year; my Master's program would come to an end in the spring and I knew I would become restless standing still.

Think about the game show The Price is Right. What is always waiting behind that red curtain at the Showcase Showdown? A new car, souped-up truck, or a Caribbean cruise. Always moving. We eat fast food, like fast cars, and love texting because it's quicker than having a real conversation.

Maybe this is why people in my small community think I am brave. I am moving - much farther than your typical Darlington resident, far away, to a foreign land known for its rich history and culture, devastating poverty, tragic violence and of course, dangerously spicy food. It is scary and exciting, but I know it will make me a better teacher, opening up fantastic opportunities for my students and of course, to move forward in my career.

But then I think of my sister. Her recent loss of yet another baby has made leaving all so much harder for me. I won't be there for the difficult weeks ahead. I feel guilty.

While I love her so much, she is my exact opposite. She will live in the same house, in the same small town with her almost perfect family and, though it seems hard to imagine now, she will be happy. She is not moving anywhere - she has become a permanent fixture in a place called home. But does that mean she will never be satisfied? Even though she has been through tremendous sadness, I look at her family and am envious of the life she has chosen. Maybe after Mexico, I will have traveled far enough.

After the nurse took baby Louis from the room for the last time, my sister hugged her four-year old daughter and said, "Maybe next time."

Moving forward. Now that is brave.