This was a hard and long goodbye. It felt worse than leaving Grayslake on a hot and humid August morning in 2010 to start my Freshman year of college. I remember weeping over the distance between me and my friends, my family, my boyfriend, my pets, everything that was comfortable, and everything that I had mastered.
It felt worse than driving away from Chapel Hill on that rainy night in December 2011 when I got sentimental about leaving my dorm, my friends, my classes, that beautiful campus, and the home I had managed to build. I was scared about how everything would change without me, about being left behind, about losing my place in everyone's lives after being absent for so long.
It even felt worse than hugging my mom goodbye at O'Hare on a snowy evening this past January. I was heart-broken, scared, and completely clueless of what lie ahead of me.
But in all of these instances, I was leaving something old for something new. I knew when I would return to my loved ones, to my homes. But this goodbye is different. I'm not going anywhere new; I'm going home. I get to see my parents, my siblings, my best friends, my cat, my house, my stomping grounds. I'm going back to where they speak English and where ice cream is cheap and abundant and where smiling like a goon in public is no weirder than hugging your friend hello or excessively saying "sorry" for everything.
But I'm scared that after the hugs and the ice cream, all I'll be able to think about is Montpellier. The town where I realized how God has graced me with family all over the world. The town where I realized that my level of French is strong enough for me to make friends who have never heard me speak English, participate in religious discussions, stand up to rude bouncers, and write ten page research papers. The town where I learned to appreciate moving slower, drinking in everything around me, and enjoying good company, good food, and good wine. The town where I really experienced true joy.
I am leaving this town at the height of my passion for it. It's only now starting to come alive, to become warm and green, to become Montpellier at its best. I feel like I'm cutting off something too soon, like I will never really know how great things could have been because my stay was only four and a half months.
And I don't know when I'm coming back. But there's joy in the unknown. I don't know when I'm coming back. It could be in ten years (I really hope not), it could be after I graduate, or it could be next summer. Who knows? My life is wide open. Opportunities are ripe for the picking. I know that my desire to keep the friends and family I've found in France is strong enough to bring me back to them. I'll leave the when and the how to figure out another day. Until then, I'll hold the feeling of the Montpellier sunshine close to my heart.
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