This blog was written on Saturday June 5, 2010 in the early morning hours as I sat in the middle of the hubbub that is London Heathrow airport. I had not yet been home, I had not yet seen Justin, I had not yet experienced the confusion that awaited me in the United States as I approached my quick turnover to Washington DC. Here it is. As for my internship at NCIS? Stay tuned as it gets underway.
Well, here I sit in Heathrow, watching a sea of people walk all around me. Some of them, if they had the choice, would probably walk right through me. But I’m ok with that at this point in my life.
It is just past 7 am in London. Which means it is just past 1 am in Nashville and in Red Wing, and 2 am in Washington DC. My three destinations. How weird is that? That I can’t even call a place home, because I am going to three “homes” in one week? Justin is in Nashville, and while I have never been there, if home is where the heart is, then Nashville is my summer home. Red Wing was my home for the first 18 years of my life, although I don’t really call it that anymore. Still, I’ll be there for a whole three days, so I have to call it something. And Washington? I don’t know what to call that yet. My physical summer home, I guess. The place I will be living and working for 10 weeks this summer. The place where my life may or may not begin.
A little over a year ago, I wrote about feeling like my constant state was like that of an airport: constantly waiting for something to happen. I hurry, I do everything right, I follow the rules, and yet, bad things still happen. Now, I am actually sitting in an airport. Funny how that happens. At this time last year, Scotland was just a distant possibility. I had been accepted to study abroad, but I didn’t know anything. And I had never dreamed that it would be as hard as it was. As it still is. I am still wrapping my head around it, although I don’t feel as numb as I have for the last several days. Before last night, my last emotion of any kind (except laughter, I guess, because I do that a lot) was the complete and utter sadness I felt on Tuesday, when I looked at the clock and realized that Jeff was somewhere over the Atlantic, while I was still on Scottish soil. It’s been rough, although the autopilot setting that I found myself on was useful in some ways. But I was a shell, and being a shell is not good for your mental state.
Scotland was a reality. That’s what I’m trying to wrap my mind around. And the key word in that sentence was “was.” Because it’s over. That is the other thing that I am trying to wrap my mind around: the fact that the last 4 months flew by without me really realizing it. Scotland was, literally, a roller coaster ride for me. I was up, I was down, sometimes I fell without warning and the next minute I’d be climbing again. It was a difficult ride. But I don’t regret it, and I’d do it again. When I first got to Scotland, all I could think about were all the things that I did not like about it: the cobblestones, the disorganization, the lack of a set schedule, the fact that my boyfriend and my friends were thousands of miles away. But now I see that I needed all of that. I needed to live in a world without a clock, without constant OCD-like organization, even without perfectly paved roads and sidewalks. Those things that stuck out so much to me at the beginning still did on the very last day, but in a different way. Now I see them as quirks, as the uniqueness of the place where I lived for the last 4 months. In order to fully comprehend this experience, I need to think of them that way. I have a new mind-set on life, which is something that I never expected to happen. I have made some life-long friends, people who I will cherish for the rest of my life. I have discovered some things about myself that I never knew existed, such as an apparent motherly instinct that had been buried for 21 years. And I am strong. I didn’t know it, and I never believed it. It pains me to admit this, but I had always thought that going to Hope had made me a strong, independent person. It didn’t. It didn’t even break the surface. I love Hope College with all of my being, but it’s a bubble. Scotland… not a bubble. Spending a semester in Aberdeen opened me up to the world. And believe me, the world is a big place. Even thinking about the different places where my new friends are scattered… they are all over the United States, from Michigan to Montana to South Carolina. They are all over Europe, from the UK, Finland, Malta, Italy. That’s not something that I could say before. In fact, I can hardly believe it now.
How will I remember this experience? What is the one thing that stuck out? I know the questions are going to bombard me when I get home. I don’t know how I can possibly answer them satisfactorily. I cannot think of one word that encompasses this experience for me. I felt every emotion possible while I was in Scotland. My friend Mary said that Scotland, to her, was life magnified. Everything that you felt, you felt in the deepest and purest form imaginable. That is all I can think of. Rascal Flatts comes about as close as I can tell to describe how I have felt about this experience: “I hope you never look back, but you never forget all the ones who love you in the place you left.” How could I say it any better? I won’t look back, because I have an entire life ahead of me. But I will also never, ever forget this experience. It has burned its own little place onto my heart, and while some people might say that now I’m branded, I like to think of it as a memory. As something to look back on when I’m older. As something to tell my kids about someday. I found myself there. I met my best friend there. I fell in love with a landscape unlike any other there. Scotland, for 4 months, was my home. How could I ever forget that?
Some people have been saying goodbye to Scotland. I can’t do that. I have already said how bad I am at saying goodbye. So I am (figuratively) waving to this beautiful green land, this land that will always hold my emotions and a small part of my heart. But it’s not goodbye. I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to come back, but it’s not goodbye. It’s a thank you, it’s an acknowledgement. It’s all I can give. Because while some people are saying goodbye, I am saying hello to the rest of my life. I got through a semester of study abroad by myself. In a foreign country. With no one to tell me what to do or who to be. It was terrifying, it was liberating. It was my temporary home. It has shaped me into an improved Amanda. And since it is never going to leave me, I don’t feel I am ever leaving it either.
So, while you say goodbye, I say hello. Hello, hello. I don’t know why you say goodbye, when I say hello.
