So I’m sitting at my kitchen table, surrounded by my familiar house. Out back is a patio I saw for the first time last night, even though it was put in 8 months ago. I saw my best friend and hung out with her all night, I talked to my brothers (like, real conversations… it was strange, I’ve clearly been away too long), I drove a car on the right side of the road and didn’t freak out (too much, it was weird), I’ve slept and showered and eaten in the house that was my home before this. Everything feels so familiar, almost like I never left. But at the same time, it feels like I’ve been gone for ages. Things are the same yet different, people are familiar yet strange, and I’m just slightly not what I was when I left this place 9 months ago. There are people to see, stories to tell, and fun to be had, but for the moment, I’m just sitting here, staring out the window, and contemplating the enormous thing that’s happened to me since I last sat here and saw this view.

Going to Cambridge was a literal dream come true. That phrase gets tossed around a lot, but for me, it really was. I’m not really a future-oriented person, I never had a ‘dream job’ growing up, I never even knew where I wanted to go to college until I was forced to figure it out. But going to England was always there, in the back of my mind, lurking there like a kind of dark horse dream that swiftly overtook my imagination once I went to Valpo and saw that I could actually do it. I applied as quickly as I could, for the soonest semester I could, and did everything I could think of to get there. I don’t regret speeding through that process, and doing this as soon as I did, but I am sad that it’s over now. I have many great things left to do in my life, but that was one of them and now it’s over.

What do you do when a dream has been realized? It’s not that it left, my desire to go to England didn’t magically vanish after I’d been. It’s just that I’ve done it. There’s less mystery in that dream now, there’s less adventure in the prospect of achieving it. But I’m starting to realize that accomplishing a dream doesn’t mean that it has to be over and done with. More dreams come in and replace that burning desire to do that which you’ve already done, but that first one doesn’t really go away. I’ll go back to England as frequently as I possibly can in the future, that much I do know.

I wanted to thank everyone who’s taken the trouble to read all of these, all of my stories and experiences and long-winded descriptions of things I find fascinating. It’s been a long and short 9 months, but it really is true–I wouldn’t trade it for anything.

Thanks again.

Bryn

So I’m sitting here on my bed, and I’m supposed to be finishing my 3000 word Popular Culture final paper. I really should be working on this paper, seeing as it’s 100% of my grade in that class, but I can’t seem to bring myself to keep working on it. I thought it was just laziness, or tiredness, but I decided to write this instead. That’s when I realized… it’s not that I don’t have the energy to write that paper. Obviously I could do it, cuz I’m writing this just fine. The real problem is that this is the last paper I have to write here, and once I’m done with that… my study abroad experience is essentially over.

I know, I know, I’m being dramatic. After all, I don’t actually leave for another week. But today I had my last class at Anglia Ruskin. I’ve finished my papers for my other classes, taken my French exam. This is the last thing I have to do here, and that’s freaking me out. Tomorrow is our last Friday here. Last night was our last meal at Matt’s house. I’ve been here for 9 months, how am I supposed to say goodbye to the place that became my home faster than any other place has?

Don’t get me wrong, I’m incredibly excited to come home. I can’t wait to see my family again, my friends and the people I care about most. What I’m worried about is leaving. It’s kind of unfathomable to me at the moment, that in one short week I won’t be here, in this place where I feel so present. I keep staring out the window instead of working, I keep trying to imprint my brain with the sight of the pastel-colored buildings that line the main street into the city centre, I keep looking up at the stone facades of the colleges and thinking ‘how is it possible that I might never see this again?’ I don’t know how to say goodbye, no matter how excited I am about coming home.

Map from 1st Semester

All my life, I’ve wanted to come to England. Something about this place called out to my soul, as cheesy as that sounds. It wasn’t even something I could explain, really, and I don’t think I could explain it now, either. There’s something about the history; there’s something about the rolling green hills and rows of hedges; there’s something about cobblestone streets and huge open parks; there’s something about the castles and manor houses; there’s something about the very air I breathe here. It’s an atmosphere I’ve never felt anywhere else on all my travels in Europe and America, and it’s the most comfortable one I’ve ever felt. Even being gone for a weekend while visiting an amazing city in Europe was hard for me this year, how am I supposed to leave Cambridge for good?

It’s raining as I’m writing this, and I’m laughing at the irony that someone like me, who basically needs the sun to keep up a positive attitude (no ‘but Bryn you’re sooo pale’ comments, you guys), can love a place that is overcast and rainy on the regular. But I think it speaks to my incredible love of this place that I just don’t care. I’d dance in the rain for months with the joy of being here if I could. I’d forego seeing the sun for months on end and take as many vitamin D supplements as I needed if it meant I could be here. I don’t want to leave, I want to come home. But the problem with that is… this feels like my home too.

I think it’s possible to have many homes, many places where you feel like you belong. My home is where I grew up. My home is wherever my family is. My home is a cabin in the Northwoods that has been the most constant thing in my life. My home is Valpo. where I’ve met incredible people whom I love dearly. My home is Cambridge, where I learned so many things and most of all, where I truly met myself. Home is a place I’ll always love, and home is a place I never want to leave.

People keep telling me I need to walk around to all my favorite places and say goodbye. People keep telling me that it’s gonna be hard to leave and hard to not come back. People keep telling me that it’ll be okay, that I’ll be so busy over the summer and back at school in the fall that I won’t remember to be sad about not being here. I believe all of those people, but I’m finding it hard to contemplate at the moment. I’ve said this so many times already in this post, but I can’t really comprehend the idea of leaving here. It doesn’t seem real, that I could be anywhere on earth that isn’t here.

What I do know, more truly that anything, is that I will never forget Cambridge. I’ll never forget the way the trees outside my window look, I’ll never forget the cows in the greens, I’ll never forget the colleges or the market or the bookstore by the church were I can look at all the antique books and marvel at literature. I’ll never forget the pubs or the coffeehouses or the tree-lined walk that lit up with fairy lights at night. I’ll never forget what the city looks like, all spread out in front of me as I stand on Castle Hill. I’ll never forget what it felt like to see it for the first time, to live here and to revel in the place where so much history was made and have the privilege to call it home.

With gratitude, sadness, and much love,

Bryn