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.

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