I’m going to explode, I just know it.
I found out yesterday that my dream of studying in Scotland is going to become a reality. And it is going to become reality very soon. In less than two months, I shall be married. In five months, I will have left my job and my country for my longest sojourn yet.
Four years, Gentle Reader. Four years I will be gone from my family and friends. And never have I had so many friends I’ve loved so well. Never have I had so many people to miss.
I’m not ashamed to own that I am in a proper tizzy over the news. For hours at a time I am able to function normally. Then it hits me that I’m about to leave everything familiar and homey.
I’ll be leaving my job (naturally; the commute would be difficult), a prospect that leaves me slightly regretful in the face of the hefty raise I just received and the enjoyable sense of responsibility. I’ll be preparing extensive documentation preparatory to handing off the reins of a rather complicated job. I had been working on it anyway, but with the knowledge of needing it at some point in a hazy future. Now there’s a deadline, along with a desire to make the transition as smooth as possible for my co-workers, whom I respect immensely. (I’m pleased to find this benevolent streak in myself.)
But it’s not true that I’ll be leaving everything homey. The most important part of home is the one part that I do get to bring: my husband. (Husband! Me, with a husband! Only fancy that!)
[Insert terrible, un-PC joke here to lower the glucose content of that last paragraph.]