Eleven days to go

It’s January 1st, and in eleven days, I’ll be preparing to board a seven hour flight that will take me to Heathrow Airport in London, England. A short connecting flight will bring me to my new home in Edinburgh by 10 am. Everyone keeps asking me, “Are you nervous? Are you scared?” Surprisingly, I’m not. I get homesick so easily that I think I exhausted myself of all fear and doubt during the past year of knowing I would be living Edinburgh, Scotland for nearly six months. Sometimes, when my family and I are all sitting around the living room (like now), I think, I’m going to miss this. I have to quickly remind myself that I won’t be missing “this” for too long; that I will be back, that this is a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity, and that adventure awaits me in the not-so-sunny highlands.

I'm gonna miss this face

I’m gonna miss this face

Right now, my family and I are in preparation mode. Megan is going to Sevilla, Spain, so with 2/3 daughters about to leave the country, it’s a family affair. Devon is excited for the prospect of having two extra closets (with the clothes inside) to herself for the first half of 2013, Dad is in charge of the electrical fixins, and Mom is making lists and lists and lists, remembering every last thing that the rest of us would have forgotten if not for her. In the next eleven days, I need to buy some luggage (and then fill it), find European adaptors, print and organize all the important documents, haggle with the insurance company to get prescriptions filled, and start saying goodbye to family. And, in the minutes between each task, pin pictures of Scotland on Pinterest to keep myself motivated.

Right now, I’m on my couch with a cup of tea and Frank perched in between my shoulder and the back of the couch. My entire family is sprawled around the living room on iPads and Macbooks, getting ready for Grandma’s annual New Years party. It’s bizarre to think that in two weeks from now, I’ll be across the pond, probably still with a cup of tea and my Mac but no Frank and no family to keep me company. When I put it that way, it’s scary. Homesickness is inevitable, but I’ve looked at it this way: I’m going to feel homesick in Scotland. Just that I can feel anything in Scotland, in another country, another city, is mindblowing. In two weeks from now, maybe I’ll be in my first class of the semester, or finding a Cafe, or splashing in some real Edinburgh puddles in my bright red boots.

In two weeks, I’ll be able to say, for real:Tha mi a’ fuireach ann an Alba….I live in Scotland!

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