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Early Morning Ramblings
Ladies and gentlemen, I am officially a victim of adrenaline.
It’s just past 7am on a Saturday morning, and I have already showered, changed, read the news, answered email, and eaten breakfast. In fact, I’ve done more than that: I am probably solely responsible for half the National Weather Service’s early morning hits today. I’ve been repeatedly seeking assurance the predicted storm will not materialize and ground my flight. It would, after all, be the cruelest of ironies if I miss the height of Melbourne summer because of snow, of all things. Thankfully, Mother Nature is indulging me.
(Sis, if she changes her mind, post that rant for me, willya?)
I have been up since 2:30 or so, when I gave up trying to sleep. Since then, it’s just been a matter of filling the hours and trying to hasten time. After all these weeks of planning and paperwork, I’m ready to go. Come what may, I need to get on that plane tonight in order to preserve my sanity; any longer here and I will simply go mad.
Oh, I’m sure I’ll miss home, don’t get me wrong. Truthfully, I’ve been vacillating between fear and excitement for days, and have grown intimately familiar with both emotions. By now, I’ve grown so accustomed to the cold, quiet, but unmistakable trickle that takes up uninvited residence in my abdomen (and is always two steps away from wreaking havoc) that I recognize it all too easily in my parents’ eyes. So too, am I well acquainted with the bubbly sensation that makes normally knotty problem seem like mere stumbling blocks, that makes normal walking suddenly turn into gliding, that I hear it clearly in my friends’ voices.
I’m not oblivious to it, I haven’t ignored it. But all I really can do is live with it.
I’ve been told more than once that studying abroad, that adapting to another culture, that living without the support of family and friends nearby, is scary. And there are times I believe that. There have been days over the past few weeks when I’ve wondered if Melbourne, for all its many charms, will be a place where I get burned, chewed up, and spit out. I’ve worried about getting sick, or some unspeakable tragedy happening, while so far away. I’m very aware that there’s no guarantee those things won’t happen.
But every time I thought about the alternative, about withdrawing my application for study abroad and returning to Washington, going through a normal semester and letting almost everyone around me breathe easier, I could never actually find it in me to pick up the phone and say those two little words. I could never say ”I can’t”, much less ”I quit”. Perhaps it’s selfish of me, but I desperately want to do this; there’s a part of me that needs this.
I can’t explain it, really. I don’t know why I am the way I am. But despite being happy here, despite loving the life I’ve temporarily left on hold in Washington, I need more. As much as I want a life that is rich in its depth, I can’t abide by a small breadth, either. There’s just too much to see, only one life to see it in, and I don’t think I can limit myself by assuming my playground is any less than the world itself. My only hope is that when I return, my restless spirit will be a little more satisfied than it is now.
We’ll see; it’s not much longer now. See you Down Under.