Leaving Home/Coming Home
Written roughly 12 hours ago
I'm on hour 13 of my trip back to Vancouver, and I haven't left the ground yet. It started this morning, loading the crowded school bus at six in the morning. The mood was strange. On the first way to school, the atmosphere was nervy and excited - new students tentatively testing the waters with each other, and IB2s reuniting with friends. The buses for midterm were relaxed and low-key; people teasing each other about their plans for break, glad to have a rest for the five days, happy to spend time with each other off of the somewhat restrictive campus.
People were quiet this morning. It started to hit me that while two years is a long time to be away from home, it's an incredibly short time to accomplish all that you need to during the IB, and an even shorter time to forge the friendships that UWC alumni describe as some of the most meaningful of their life. It must have been even harder for the IB2s.
First term break is a chance to relax and travel before the rigours of term two and three, and this would be one of their last chances for relaxation with friends before final assessments are due. Regardless, it was a nice bus ride - as nice as an incredibly packed school bus that runs non-stop for almost seven hours can be - people talked softly, fell asleep on each others' shoulders, and reminisced about the events of the term as if they'd happened years before.
The previous night I had dinner in town with a friend, before walking with her to the local pub to meet up with some other friends for a low-key night out. I feel at home in Mbabane, and at Waterford - the people bring me comfort, and it gave me a pang to pack up my room.
Today at the airport I hung out with my friends who were also catching flights to Europe; people from the Netherlands, Germany, Finland, and Sweden. It's going to be a weird month without them. I don't know quite what I'll do without friends bursting into my room at all hours of the day to check on me, to ask for advice, to share a funny story that I simply HAD to hear about RIGHT NOW.
I think I'll feel a little aimless and lonely for a while, without the constant friends, but I already have plans to video call with my group of friends spending the break in Durban, with my friend in New Zealand, with my corridor-mate from the Netherlands. I miss them despite the fact that I said goodbye less than an hour ago - I think I've gotten bad at being alone - but I'm comforted by the fact that my friends are all over the world, and I'll be back with them in the month. I'm ready for the creature comforts of my apartment, the relaxation of being cared for by my parents, and a little bit of alone time.
I think my childhood of travelling has made it easier for me to live lightly in a place. I fall in love with places quickly, but it remains simple for me to pack up and move and love the next place. I've grown more aware of this as I've grown up, and I've grown to appreciate the ease of being present in the place I am, and leaving with a sense of gratitude, rather than loss. As I watched the mountain that Waterford perches on recede, I was grateful for the past few months, excited about the month to come, and I felt as if I was both leaving, and heading home.
I'm on hour 13 of my trip back to Vancouver, and I haven't left the ground yet. It started this morning, loading the crowded school bus at six in the morning. The mood was strange. On the first way to school, the atmosphere was nervy and excited - new students tentatively testing the waters with each other, and IB2s reuniting with friends. The buses for midterm were relaxed and low-key; people teasing each other about their plans for break, glad to have a rest for the five days, happy to spend time with each other off of the somewhat restrictive campus.
People were quiet this morning. It started to hit me that while two years is a long time to be away from home, it's an incredibly short time to accomplish all that you need to during the IB, and an even shorter time to forge the friendships that UWC alumni describe as some of the most meaningful of their life. It must have been even harder for the IB2s.
First term break is a chance to relax and travel before the rigours of term two and three, and this would be one of their last chances for relaxation with friends before final assessments are due. Regardless, it was a nice bus ride - as nice as an incredibly packed school bus that runs non-stop for almost seven hours can be - people talked softly, fell asleep on each others' shoulders, and reminisced about the events of the term as if they'd happened years before.
The previous night I had dinner in town with a friend, before walking with her to the local pub to meet up with some other friends for a low-key night out. I feel at home in Mbabane, and at Waterford - the people bring me comfort, and it gave me a pang to pack up my room.
Today at the airport I hung out with my friends who were also catching flights to Europe; people from the Netherlands, Germany, Finland, and Sweden. It's going to be a weird month without them. I don't know quite what I'll do without friends bursting into my room at all hours of the day to check on me, to ask for advice, to share a funny story that I simply HAD to hear about RIGHT NOW.
I think I'll feel a little aimless and lonely for a while, without the constant friends, but I already have plans to video call with my group of friends spending the break in Durban, with my friend in New Zealand, with my corridor-mate from the Netherlands. I miss them despite the fact that I said goodbye less than an hour ago - I think I've gotten bad at being alone - but I'm comforted by the fact that my friends are all over the world, and I'll be back with them in the month. I'm ready for the creature comforts of my apartment, the relaxation of being cared for by my parents, and a little bit of alone time.
I think my childhood of travelling has made it easier for me to live lightly in a place. I fall in love with places quickly, but it remains simple for me to pack up and move and love the next place. I've grown more aware of this as I've grown up, and I've grown to appreciate the ease of being present in the place I am, and leaving with a sense of gratitude, rather than loss. As I watched the mountain that Waterford perches on recede, I was grateful for the past few months, excited about the month to come, and I felt as if I was both leaving, and heading home.
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