So Hard to Say Goodbye

This morning I gazed at my views of the puffy sheep and the sparkling loch beyond the trees for the last time, then began the long journey back down to Edinburgh.  The downside of having such a wonderful time on a trip is that it's really hard when it comes to an end.  It might have helped a little if it had been rainy and gloomy today, but it's still sunny and achingly beautiful here.  Driving here was enjoyable in that it gave me plenty of chance to enjoy the scenery, listen to music, and let my thoughts wander, but it was also hard knowing every mile was bringing me closer to my departure.

I stopped for lunch in Pitlochry, which is yet another charming little Scottish town.  [Sorry, but this is the only photo in this particular post.  A little side note for a few of you who have asked about my camera, it is a little point-and-shoot Canon PowerShot that fits in my hand and that I bought at Costco.  It's done surprisingly well, especially considering I have no photography skills whatsoever.  I just look at something and go, "Pretty!" and take a picture.]

Since 100% of my meals the last few days have been very traditional Scottish dishes, I decided on a whim to pop into an Indian restaurant on a side street.  The sun was so bright I couldn't see in the windows very well, and when I went in, I saw I was the only patron in a rather sizeable restaurant.  It ended up being a pretty hilarious experience because there were three men working there, and they all took turns doing something (I guess they were really excited to have a customer).  One brought me the menu and took my order, another one brought me my food, and a third one checked in with me partway through to see if I needed anything.  All of them seemed to want to chat for a minute and asked me virtually the same questions, so I ended up having the same conversation three times.  Talk about déjà vu.

Now I'm in Edinburgh for the night so I can get to the airport tomorrow morning to catch my flight back to the U.S.  While I am definitely looking forward to seeing my friends again and being able to talk to family on the phone, there's a big part of me that's not ready for this experience to be over and I am already feeling a deep sense of loss.  I'm also not looking forward to all the stressful realities of being home--cleaning my house, working out what to do about the rotting fence with the neighbors, finishing the work on my kitchen, etc.  It's been so lovely not to think of any of that for the past several weeks--to not feel any of that responsibility. 

But what I'm trying to remind myself is that while this trip might be over in the literal sense, its effect on me can and will continue on.  There's still so much to process and reflect on.  One thing I was thinking about on the drive today is how terrified and stressed I was in the weeks leading up to this trip.  I also thought about how awkward and lonely and uncomfortable I felt traveling by myself in England for five days over 15 years ago--my first time traveling by myself.  And I realized I've come a long way since then.  I navigated my way around all sorts of locations via all sorts of transport.  I had great conversations with people.  I tried things I was afraid of.  Most amazingly, I felt relaxed and comfortable the majority of the time, each positive experience and outcome giving me more confidence for the next.  This is not to say that there weren't some difficulties along the way--just that I had an internal sense that they would work out okay and I didn't need to panic or get upset.  I got used to dining on my own and genuinely enjoying it (especially when I had a good book on my Kindle), and when I saw people glancing over at me, instead of assuming they were thinking "who's that sad, loser lady all by herself?" as I usually would, I entertained the possibility that they were thinking, "who's that mysterious and cool lady sitting over there by herself?"  I actually started that as an internal joke with myself, but I kind of started believing it by the end. 

On the boat ride yesterday, a very nice couple from England and I got to chatting, and the husband asked me, "And you're doing this trip on your own?"  I said, "Yes, I am," and he exclaimed, "Oh, well done!" like I'd just completed an outstanding equestrian jump.  It could be that all these people traveling with spouses and families and friends felt pity for me and were just trying to be polite.  But maybe one or two genuinely did feel some admiration or envy or realized, "hey, you can do that?!"  (answer: yes, you can!)

Did I miss having someone to share these experiences with?  Some of the time, yes, of course.  But a lot of the time, I enjoyed the complete freedom to do whatever I wanted to and make my decisions completely spur of the moment, not to mention that sometimes, in some of those really beautiful places, solitude just felt right.  Plus, I didn't feel entirely alone thanks to all of you who've kept up with the blog and posted comments and/or "liked" them on Facebook and/or sent e-mails about it.  In many ways, through this blog it's felt like I have been traveling with other people, so I appreciate the company!

While part of me regrets not asking for more in my proposal and staying for longer (mine was the smallest/shortest proposal the committee received), most of me knows this was exactly the right trip and right amount of time to ask for.  For one thing, as much as I'd like to run away from them, my house repairs can't be put off any longer.  For another, I needed to experience this trip to be ready for something bigger and longer.  Plus, I got a pretty good sense of a good chunk of Scotland and will be much more informed about picking a location when I come back and rent a cottage for a summer.  Which will be someday...

Beneath my sadness at this trip's end is a tremendous gratitude to Wellesley and the Stevens Fellowship, without which none of this would have been possible.  I am so proud to be an alumna of a school with such a long tradition of valuing and affirming women living rich and full lives that in turn contribute something to the communities they are a part of.  I am also thankful for the love, support, and prayers of family and friends.  I've experienced blessings on this trip beyond what I ever hoped for or imagined, which is another lasting impact.  As a natural worrier my whole life, I've had a tendency to imagine worst case/negative scenarios much more easily than best case/positive ones, although that's slowly been shifting as I've gotten older.  So many best cases and positive experiences have occurred on this trip that it has tipped the balance for me.  Or at least I hope it has and I can retain and remember some of this sense when I'm back in the context of home. 

As I was standing at the top of the summit yesterday drinking in all the beauty around me, the Doxology popped into my head.  I didn't sing it aloud because there were other people walking up and down the trail and I am not a complete loony bin.  But it seems an appropriate way to close now.

Praise God from whom all blessings flow,
Praise him all creatures here below,
Praise him above, ye heavenly host,
Praise Father, Son, and Holy Ghost.