Journey
By Lem
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You know how when you’re a child, time seems to be a different shape? It stretches out before your mind’s eye like a beach of coral sand bordered by a gem-bright sea; like a velvety-soft carpet in which you can roll yourself, safe and secure. You are young; you compartmentalise time into pleasant occurrences- playdates, picnics, school trips, which play back like a glowing cine-film of smiles and toys and sunny days. You live in the moment, and that’s why you don’t get it when adults sigh and say, “How the time flies.” Maybe it does; but you are flying with it, if only you knew, in little unexpected bursts. One day you’ll wring out your face flannel and marvel at how low the sink suddenly seems; the pencil dot on the wall will suddenly be at eye-level; your wrists are an inch barer in your favourite jumper. You look around you and find the same is happening to everyone else- giants in Lilliput, dolls gathering dust in a cupboard.
Then, with an unceremonious bump, you tumble headlong into the rabbit-hole of adolescence. Already the binding threads are fraying, the travellers parting and merging ways like so many little rivers. You’ll find your mad hatters, your catty Cheshires with their claws permanently out; if your high school’s anything like mine you’ll even find your hookah-smoking caterpillars selling at the gates, and learn to steer clear of them. Looking back at the end of it, you’ll be amazed at your journey through the labyrinth; how young you seemed at the beginning, and how many memories you’ve made along the way, and will keep in a precious secret place within for the rest of your days.
We have all set out on different paths, pursuing various journeys; and mine has perhaps been the most arduous. Obstacles have been set before me in various forms; there have been times where I have felt like casting myself off the precipice. Yet somehow- out of duty, out of love, and finally out of new courage, I have been able to pass through the storms into the lush green valleys, my opportunities spread out before me like bright patches of meadow flowers. Each transition- primary to high school, high school to university, halls of residence to the little house on the hill, and finally Bath to Berlin- has taught me new things, has brought its own challenges and rewards.
I just can’t get to grips with it. In my mind I seem far too young to be doing any of this. Most of my friends are working or studying far from home; two of my best friends recently got engaged; many of my high-school acquaintances are parents themselves. It all felt like a game when I went out with my Cardiff mates, hugged them, said goodbye to them. There are cards, there are little gifts; I find myself forgetting the occasion. It feels like a quiet belated birthday, not a farewell.
I am not just leaving my friends old and new, my parents, my boyfriend, my cities grey and golden, my country; I am also bidding a final farewell to my former self- the self who was shy and often sad, who relied too heavily on others. I will not forget her; rather, I shall remember how she was, and take heart from her struggles which became her triumphs, and build on them further. It is, in a way, a new beginning, a fresh start; to be free in the German capital where nobody knows me- make my new routine, forge new friendships, have new experiences. It could well be the making of me; I must only ensure I reach out with both hands and take all that it has to offer.
That morning when we caught the bus in silence, walked to Great Pulteney Street hand-in-hand, knowing that each moment passing brought us closer to the last, I will never forget. It was a short distance, but I felt ‘heavy and pale as lead’. The day was colourless, pallid sky and misted waters flowing into each other. We stared at the flat green-grey glass sliding glissando into foaming torrents, as if waking from a dream- a dream in which we had been together for the better part of two years, and now awoke into wistful reality. We kissed and parted- my fingers gathering sense-memories, the softness of skin, warmth of hair- and came together again, and kissed, embraced, kissed- and parted. Tears a bittersweet catharsis. Over and out.
I left a letter on your pillow, of all the things I knew I would not be able to say for sorrow; and these few days before I leave have replaced the sorrow with a calm acceptance, and the desire to make those I love proud of me. This I swear to do, to make these ten months the best of my life so far, to form habits and memories I want to keep for a lifetime. It can, it will be wonderful, if I make it so.
And so, to all of you- for I will see you again, this is not truly goodbye- Auf Wiedersehen.
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good luck lem - really
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