When they told me don’t blink, I rolled my eyes and laughed. When they said it goes by fast, I nodded but didn’t believe them.
They were right, though, because here I am, about to pack my bags for Scotland and say goodbye. Another semester gone, with only one more left at this place that has become my home, another family. It’s a bitter taste in my mouth that I can’t brush out.
It’s cliché, too, because that bitterness is sweet. It’s full of what is waiting for me over the sea, of the adventures to be had and the people I will soon meet. It’s a jittery sensation of knowing something unlike anything I have done before is coming, fast. And it’s going to be hard. I will feel alone. I will most likely get lost. I will be pinned as that dumb American. I will certainly be homesick—for my mom, my dog (my best friend’s dog, too), my family and friends both at home and at SU.
Who will come give me a hug when I feel overwhelmed, exhausted, at my beaten down end?
Who will I get coffee with to catch up on life each week, to share in the joys and temptations and pains?
What will I do when I can’t call my mom at any given moment, in tears, in bubbling excitement, in all my highs and lows and in-betweens?
There’s so many unknowns. There’s so much I leave on this side of the Atlantic. And when I dwell on it, I begin to sweat a little more as my heart picks up speed. And that’s when I force myself to pause. To remember what I bring with me—the peace of knowing I carry my God with me, inside of me. The confidence to say that whatever it is that waits for me over there, I don’t face it alone. I never have, never will. Yeah, the unknown, it’s scary, but it sure as heck is beautiful, too.
