Today is the day I start counting the days, the days I have left, that is. 18 if you care. My visa has been issued, printed and shipped. My plane ticket has been paid for (why are they so expensive??). And my belongings are scattered all over the guest room of my parents' house, waiting to be organized into piles of "what stays" and "what goes."
The last time I left for England I, probably quite foolishly, tried to take clothes for a year. Now I know better. Now I know Primark. England is not another planet; it is entirely possible to buy stuff there. Go figure. I actually miss British stores, Primark, Tesco, Asda, Boots, HMV, etc. and cannot wait to hit them up again. Actually, now that I think about it, I could just take a half-empty suitcase and go shopping when I get there...or better yet, fill the suitcase with books and still go shopping when I get there. You know, random fact, when I went to England in 2012, I took 2 books with me. Before I left, I had 50. Yes, 50. I blame the charity shops--the books are so cheap! This time I think I will take a few more books (just a few) and fewer clothes, but warm clothes. Being in Northwest England in January, I know it will be cold and rainy. Yes, warm clothes and a few books will essentially be what I take with me in two and a half weeks when I leave.
When I leave. It's still sinking in that I am actually going...sometimes it doesn't feel like I'm going. It feels too good to be true. I am afraid I find myself waiting for the other shoe to drop, but it hasn't dropped yet. My departure date is approaching, and as it does, the whole idea, the future that lies before me is becoming more and more real to me. When I leave. I am leaving. I am going home, not to the land of my birth, but to the place that makes more sense to me than anywhere else on this earth, the place I feel more comfortable and more at ease, the place where my heart truly lies, home. England. Yes, I am going home.
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