To Oxford I Go

This week has been one of the most emotionally taxing weeks of my life.  Full of goodbyes, full of "last time I'll evers", full of anticipation, full of dreams of what's about to start.

I hestitated to open my eyes this morning; I wanted to savor my last morning in the room that I've called my own for 10 years.  I relished the smell of my pillow, burrowed down under my pink embroidered quilt, admired the bird cage familiarly dangling over my head.

Then, I knew I was about to cry.  It's always a dead giveaway when my eyebrows start to sweat.  After that, my mouth twitches from side to side in attempt to prevent tears from falling down my cheeks.  But no twitching this time; I just let them fall and plunk on my pillow.  It was the first of many tearful moments of the day, ones I allowed in defeat in respect to the wonderful 15 years I spent at 635 Ridge.

I don't know if the goodbyes became more difficult this week because I saved the hardest ones for last, or if they all accumulated on top of each other since Monday.  I was doing so well with establishing elongated "see you laters", but these past few days I just couldn't keep it together.  Sitting at my grandparent's kitchen table, hunched over a map of England with my grandpa as he explained where he was stationed during the war, tears suddenly began falling all over Manchester and even a few in the English Channel.  I immediately covered my face in embarrassment, apologizing profusely for the sudden upset, as he gently patted my hand and offered the best comfort he could "Lovey, don't you worry.  Although we won't be down the street anymore, we'll still be right here." It was the first time he's called me "lovey" since I was much younger.

It's all still so tender.  My eyes well when I just think of the last time I pounded down the stairs of my house, the last glance at the grand piano where I spent afternoons in the middle of so many summers practicing my favorite Christmas carols, the last tickle between my toes of the shag rug in our family room where we had millions of pizza nights, the last warmth of the sun coming in through the plantation shutters in my room around 3 or 4 in the afternoon.  I will make every effort to keep these images and memories as vivid as they are right now.

And now, here I am.  6:09 PM in Terminal 3 at O'Hare.  In just a little over an hour, my life's greatest adventure will commence.  I felt longing and pain in my heart for the familiar I've left behind when I began to write this post, but I put in my earbuds to take my mind off of things.  This song came on my shuffle, and not only has it lifted my heart, but it's sparked a sense of adventure in the pit of my stomach and I feel ready.  I am ready for what is to come.  I hope you enjoy the song, and it lifts you up too.