The Number I Wasn't Ready For

I opened the program's website with the same energy I've had for the last few weeks, vaguely optimistic, a little caffeinated, folder named 'actually' on my phone like I had it all figured out. I scrolled past the photos of mountain trails and hostel kitchens and carefully worded testimonials from people who went and came back changed. I found the application tab. I clicked through.

The fee breakdown is not what I had in the screenshots. I don't know why I thought the screenshots were the whole picture. Application fee, program fee, required equipment, travel costs, visa processing, insurance. It's listed in a tidy little column, very calm, very matter-of-fact, like it's not approximately twice what I had vaguely estimated in my head while doing zero math. I wrote it all down anyway. Every line. Pen, not pencil, which I'm choosing to count as something.

working the numbers in the notebook because staring at the screen stopped helping

I've been sitting here for a while now trying to figure out if this is the part where I fold or the part where I figure it out. The honest answer is I don't know yet. What I do know: I looked up whether there are payment plans. There are, sort of. I looked up whether there are scholarships or grants specific to gap year programs. There are, also sort of. I wrote down three email addresses for people listed as program contacts and I have not emailed them yet but I've drafted the first one in my head approximately eleven times.

the 'actually' folder meets the actual numbers. it's a lot.

When I committed to the gap year here back in September I think part of me thought 'committing to it' was most of the work. It is, it turns out, not most of the work. The work is the column of numbers in my notebook and the draft email I haven't sent and the specific quiet of a November Monday where you realize the plan you named is going to need an actual plan. I'm not giving up. I'm just not pretending the math is easy anymore.