On December 12, 2012, I returned to the US after a solid 6 months away, and after 16 months of considering myself an American non-resident. My last week in Scotland was simultaneously one of the happiest and one of the most harrowing weeks of my life.
First, there was the stress of finding someone to move into my room. I finally did post my want-ad, and got a text response within an hour or so. I arranged for Rhiannon, the girl who was interested, to come by the next evening for a viewing. This should have been good news all around, but when I told my flatmate Ieuan about this, it transpired that no one but me was going to be in the flat at the time arranged, which was no good, because the others wanted to meet her before settling anything. I felt like I had bent over backward to make this happen, with no help from anybody else, so I was quite miffed at Ieuan's reaction. And we had an ugly snarling match which led to me storming out of the flat for several hours. As it happened, Sam was home when Rhiannon came, and she decided pretty much on the spot to take the flat. Sam and I arranged for her to come back the next day to meet Ieuan and Danielle, and firmly commit if all went well.
But the next day, December 7, I was leaving for a weekend in Stromeferry. That bus ride from Edinburgh to Inverness was one of the most anxious of my entire life, as I spent most of it texting back and forth with Rhiannon and Sam, ironing out last-minute meeting details, and sending up several heartfelt prayers. "Please let them like her. Please let her like them!" Because if this fell through, I was going to have precious little time to find anyone else. Whilst I was on the train from Inverness to Stromeferry, the time appointed for the meet-up came and went. When I didn't receive any texts saying "We hate her, find someone else!" or "I hate them, the deal's off!" I was able to relax a bit.
I had a very enjoyable weekend with Ewan and Kath in Stromeferry. We played pool, drank beer, listened to loud music (AC/DC and The Who, mostly), and watched movies. A couple of the neighbors came over on the first night, and Gordon came over on the second night. I did a book cull before I left Edinburgh and brought about a dozen books with me, and left them in one of the nightstands, which has now been christened "Lauren's Library." I have so many memories associated with that house, and walking into it almost feels like coming home. When it was time for me to get the train back to Inverness on the 9th, it finally hit me like a ton of bricks that I was about to leave for good. That was when the tears started, a bit.
When I got back to Edinburgh, it was to the news that Rhiannon had committed to moving in. Thank the Lord, I landed on my feet!
I began packing on the 10th. On the evening of the 10th, Charley and her boyfriend Thomas came over. I cooked them jambalaya and gifted Charley with my two last boxes of mix. We sat around the kitchen table for several hours, just nattering. We discovered that Glenlivet whisky goes surprisingly well with raspberry Crystal Lite. I was in actually in very good spirits for most of this day, and was really happy that I was able to hold it together when Charley and Thomas left. Charley is one of the people I've been missing the most.
On the 11th, I took a couple of bags of clothes to Oxfam and donated them, and then had a final meal at one of my favorite places to eat, before going back to my flat and resuming packing. I was about 85% packed by 7:30 that evening, when I went to the pub to meet Danny. I won't go into particulars about that night, except to say that I stayed out with him and his friends until about 3:00 the following morning, before staggering back to my flat and finally going completely and totally to pieces. I don't think I've cried that hard since the last day of Governor's School, a summer program I attended in 2004. And it was for essentially the same reason - I was on the threshold of leaving people and a place that I loved, and where I felt loved, like none other. But while I spent six weeks at Governor's School, I had spent a good deal longer in Scotland.
I spent fully 46 weeks of this year outside the US. Coming back from that isn't simple, and it certainly isn't easy. Emotionally or logistically. I finally pulled myself together enough to finish packing, and collapsed into bed around 5am for a 90-minute nap. Then I heaved my 6 pieces of luggage down 3 flights of stairs, caught a cab, and was away. I didn't say goodbye to my flatmates. I didn't even strip my linens off the bed, for which I hoped Rhiannon would forgive me.
The cab ride to the airport was tense, both because of where I was going and why, and because the hangover was beginning to set in. And they only got more tense. I had 4 bags to check, one of them overweight. For any of you who have not traveled by airplane recently, this ain't cheap. Luckily, the agent checking me in was an absolute star. She made a call, and was able to get one of my extra bags onboard for free, and she also didn't charge me extra for the overweight bag. So I only ended up paying half of what I really should have to check those bags. Landed on my feet again!
By the time I got through security, it was just about time for my flight to board. I was also desperately thirsty by this time, from the effects of the previous night's drinking, and because I was wearing three coats. Sweating Jagermeister from every pore. Lovely. I detoured just long enough to buy a bottle of water, and then I got on the plane.
I cried on takeoff, as I knew I would, and as I had warned the gentleman beside me. But not as much as I thought I would. As we climbed toward our cruising altitude, I could see that it was a beautiful, sunny day in western Scotland. I fancied that the Arrochar Alps, covered in snow, were waving at me as we passed them by, saying "Haste ye back." And I felt some measure of comfort.
The flight to Newark was uneventful, as was the flight to RDU. Settling back into American life has been more difficult, not least because of recent events in Connecticut and the ugly debates that have followed. I've been back for 19 days and I still feel out of place. I resolved to take the Christmas holidays to simply enjoy being with family and get ready to reintegrate my life, and now I'm hoping that I'll be able to find some kind of niche for myself in the new year. I miss Scotland and everyone I left behind terribly, but I have to believe that this move back has happened for a reason that I just can't see yet. Here's to finding that reason in 2013.
Cheers, y'all.
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