It’s 6 days until I leave and it’s finally starting to sink in. My room is stuffed with bins and duffels and random junk that I need to pack, my dog is moping on the kitchen floor, and my mom is throwing a going away party. All that is fine; the part I can’t seem to handle are the questions. Everyone wants to know where I’m going (India), for how long (10 months), why (Because), when I’ll be back (June), who I’m living with (No idea), where I’ll go to school (No idea), what I’ll eat (Food!?), where I’ll sleep (in a bed!), if I’m going to get homesick (Duh!), if I’m going to die (WHAT??), and on and on. And then they get shocked when I don’t know the answers to their question, because they’ve forgotten that I’m not going to India for another two months, I’m spending my summer in the Arctic. Then the next string of questions come. Most of them incoherent.
I really should give these people more patience. It’s touching that they care and want to know every freaking detail of my future life. On the other hand, I keep thinking, “I’ve been talking about this for the past year, does no one ever actually listen to me?” So while I bite my lip and answer the same questions over and over, I’m very grateful for the people who hear what I say the first time.
Regardless of silly questions, I’m going to miss everyone, and I look forward to seeing you when I get home!
Can miles truly separate you from friends…. If you want to be with someone you love, aren’t you already there? ~Richard Bach
