On our first day in Bogotá, we learned that at six the next morning, we’d take a taxi to Villavicencio, a three-hour trip through the legendary Andes Mountains. From there we’d take a thirty-minute flight to our new home, Lomalinda.
|The snowcapped Andes Mountains (in public domain)|
Loren and Laura Rush and their son, Doug, were to join us. When Loren heard we’d leave at six, he groaned. “We’ll have to miss breakfast!”
Laura shushed him with a smile. “None of us would want to eat breakfast anyway.”
Her words puzzled me. What does she mean? I never miss breakfast.
As they turned to leave, Laura called out to us, “Wear lots of layers tomorrow. It’ll be cold when we leave, but you’ll peel off layers as we get closer to Lomalinda.
“And don’t forget plastic bags.”
“Right. Most people get carsick on the drive through the mountains.”
Ah, that was a good reason to miss breakfast.
I fell into a cold, lumpy bed that night, wondering about the next day. All I knew was this: We had no idea what awaited us. (Please, God, Don’t Make Me Go, Chapter 4)