Twenty Three

With the month of August already on us, it seemed appropriate to write a pre-departure post or two.

So, hello! And happy August first. (Wait, we’re officially over the hump of summer and descending into the last few months of 2015, beginning a new school year and semester, and generally starting life again?) For me, this month marks a semester of change; four months of exploration, culture, and learning; and an end-of-the-calendar-year adventure of a lifetime. A six hour flight with Aer Lingus will transport me to a world of far-off places and daring sword fights. Dublin, Ireland, will become my home—if only for a little while—and I couldn’t be more thrilled to experience the wide world beyond my own.

Excitement settled deeply into my bones as soon as I received my acceptance to Champlain College’s Dublin program, and has only grown with each passing month. With the month upon me, nerves have been tugging on my sleeve lately, too. Being away for so long without my family will certainly be an adjustment, and culture shock is inevitable. But living abroad does not mean that communication outside of Ireland is automatically cut off. Social media and Skype are still kickin’.

I have to remind myself that being nervous is a part of the process of living. Change is something I am fine with, with a few exceptions, and know that the curveball of a new culture will suit me just fine. I don’t mean to be cliché when I say that if you’re not scared, you’re not human, but if you aren’t scared, you aren’t human. You aren’t looking far enough. It’s approaching far quicker than I had imagined it could or would, but it’s a-coming and I’m more thrilled than anything for the time to fully come.

The four-columned page of items needed has been scribbled on and checked over, so there is very little left to purchase. Obviously, there is still everything to pack—but with three weeks sandwiched between me and my flight, there’s no worrying in that area. My mother, ever the traveler and planner extraordinaire, has been a great help in the process.

Time feels crunched. Working every weekday and wanting to relax and read on the weekends has led to a quiet and content summer. I have been hit in the face with the knowledge that I won’t be in Boston for four months, the longest stretch of time that I’ve been away from my home and my city. Every day I verbalize a bucket list of sorts, of things to get done before I leave. I want to go to the Museum of Fine Arts! We really should go to Johnny Rockets for burgers and milkshakes. Let’s take an evening drive through Boston. I’ll be back, but am hoping to soak up the feel of this world I have lived in before spending time in an entirely new one.

The next three weeks (stop saying that, Lindsay: summer hasn’t gone by that quickly…) are certainly going to continue on with force and speed, but I’m ready to relish in them. At the same time, I’ve got a mental countdown that fills me with a thrilling terror. After the tears I know will be shed have flooded from my eyes, here will nothing but pure joy reside. A dream will have come true, and a pinch will be needed every so often for my own sake. Am I really here right now?

Yes. Yes, I will be. And I can’t wait.