I'm sure that's a line from a song or something, but that's what went through my head as a sat in our bathroom crying Friday afternoon, while everyone else was waiting to go to Tesco to do our weekly grocery shopping. The bathroom was the only place that I could find where I wouldn't be disturbed, where I hopefully wouldn't have to admit to anyone else that I was crying. My plan was to let it out, cry for a bit and stop, dry my eyes and go downstairs and out the door.
My plan didn't happen. For whatever reason that was the moment that I had realized just exactly how much I was going to miss this place. The children that I work with in school, who I've scolded and laughed with and helped do sums and said hello to on the street. Our elderly German neighbor who has vibrant stories from her life that can seem to drag on when I'm standing on the other side of the fence. The Bilton family who we see quite often for church or dinners at the vicarage. The three beautiful women that I live with that I've cried, laughed, argued with, encouraged, yelled at, shared birthdays and danced crazily with, been lost with and loved over the last 9 1/2 months.
At the same time, the same gut-wrenching minute, second, I wanted to be home in Nebraska in the country, having a morning cup of coffee with my mom, or quizzing my father about the radio trivia question that he didn't hear that day. I want to be with my boyfriend, in Kansas, or Nebraska or anywhere really that we can spend time together before our life choices separate us again for months at a time. I want to be home and spend time with the new puppy Molly and make her feel welcome in her new home. I want to go to parades and help my nephew pick up candy off the street, and try my very best to convince him to share some with his favorite (I wish) aunt. I want to get to know my bubbly, happy niece so I don't miss her as a baby. I do want to go back and be in drama, choir, orchestra, and school (yes I do like it) and be able to go to a decent coffee shop that's not Starbucks. But I also want to hear chatter around me in the staff room about everyone's weekend and this child that did this, or that child that didn't understand that. I will miss children asking if I'm related to or know an American celebrity, or being horrible at guessing my age when I did tell them on my birthday.
Time is running out. Two weeks now, that seem to be slipping through my fingers like the sugar I sprinkled on a pie this morning. Two weeks from now I'll be doing last minute packing and thinking about trying to go to sleep early so that I can wake up in the wee hours of the morning to catch a flight. A flight to where? I'm not sure. A flight that will take me away from my home, to my home. Six weeks later I'll drive three hours to my home to continue college. My heart and my mind are confused right now, I can no longer call just one place home. And I think that's a good thing, that there are three places that I really feel at peace, at home. But it's sure hard to leave any of them. Bittersweet. That's a taste of life I don't think I'll ever grow accustomed to. Will I ever be okay with this I wonder? Yes, I think so. But I haven't the foggiest idea when or how. I'm sure I'll repeat my crying in the bathroom ritual many-a-time in the months to come. But, it'll be alright, I gotta let it out somehow.
Thank you for listening dear readers. Thank you for praying and encouraging me and continuing to read about my joys and struggles. I have a feeling this will be my last post from England. I'll try to get another one out, but I think something will get the better of me, whether it be laziness, or being busy with preparing to leave. I may post another time in Chicago, or back in Nebraska, so don't delete this blog link just yet. Many of you will hear me speak or share or whatever at Bethesda in Henderson and if not hopefully you can hear about my experience in person sometime soon.
Blessings,
Becca from across the pond
