There's a very precise moment of departure when you leave a place over water. I remember being sad as we turned on the West Side Highway from 48th Street in New York, but I don't think there were tears in my eyes until our big, yellow moving van crossed the Hudson, and I could see the city skyline silhouetted in the sunrise behind me from the George Washington Bridge.
Two days ago, I stood on the deck of a ship sailing from Newcastle-upon-Tyne to the Netherlands, and I couldn't stop a feeling of sad finality as I looked back at waves crashing over the piers of Tynemouth in the setting sun.
There was land,
and then there was water,
and that was the end of things.
And here I am, on my way, beginning what should be a fantastic journey before returning to the United States. I'll be driving south in a few days to Barcelona, making stops through Western France on my way. I'll pick up Josh and drop off the friend who is joining me through France at the airport and then off we go. The idea of it is wonderful, but unfortunately neither Josh nor I have had much time for ideas. We've been busy moving, packing, planning, coming, leaving, looking, going, and it's too early yet to force the excitement of a dream becoming reality to overcome the sadness of a reality becoming a memory. I will miss England. It's not a perfect place- no where is- but it's become dear, as have the friends we've made here. I mean there. The friends we made there...
Monday, March 30, 2009
Over the sea
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1 comment:
Did you have to make a point of the 'there' at the end? The idea that it is past, even after having been gone for a while now, still hurts to think about, I keep expecting to return when this is all done.
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