I leave in an hour and 7 minutes for the airport and am freaking out a bit.
1) I don’t like to fly. Yes, it’s true I manage a large flights division for a major tour operator. But I don’t like to actually be in airplanes.
2) I have TONS to do and just don’t feel ready.
GET OVER IT. OK, moving on. By the way, stories of my adventures during the next two weeks will be posted by my good friend Ashlee’s blog: http://www.ashbloemstraat.com
I was thinking just now, as I was running (literally) to CVS to get Dramamine, about the time I flew from Boston to Amsterdam when I moved there in early January 1999. I was a WRECK. I was blubbering and crying and called everyone I knew from the airport so they could hear me blubber and cry. I even called my sister’s boyfriend (I had none of my own) to thank him for being so generous to me in the weeks prior. I was so afraid of leaving, and knew nothing at all about the place I was moving to. At the same time, I have to admit it was exciting. Looking back, I don’t know why I was so upset, I hadn’t lived in Boston long enough to put down a single root, but then again, maybe that was just the point of my distress. I wasn’t ready.
Two-years after moving to Amsterdam I was ready to come back. It was just too hard. I couldn’t read my utility bills, the cashiers at the grocery store were rude, and the sun never came out from behind the low lying clouds. Then I met a boy whom I liked and things got a little better. THEN I met a man whom I loved and things got a WHOLE lot better. I made friends. I found a community. Everything got easier. It was like I had been holding my breath for two whole years and finally figured out a way to exhale. I hate to admit a Man was the reason for things getting better, but that’s just the way it was.
Two years later I was standing (well, doubled-over) outside Schiphol Airport in Amsterdam about to move back to Boston. Faithful Frankie was by my side holding my hand as again I was sobbing and hyperventilating with grief. I didn’t want to go back, I had only just started to feel settled. I wasn’t ready to move again and leave all that I had found.
I don’t know why this all comes to mind right now. Often I am asked, “So, when are you moving back to Europe”. People just assume I am going back, although I guess I talk about it pretty frequently (especially after the last election). I don’t know. Someday? A year? Never? I don’t know. I really want to give Boston the chance I didn’t give it 8 years ago. Now it has been three years and still it’s a struggle to find roots here. I am beginning to doubt that it will ever really happen. And then what?
Good God. I need this vacation. Getting away right now seems like an absolute blessing.
See you in 2 weeks. Don’t miss me too much. And sorry for all the type-os and grammar errors. I don’t have time to spell check.