I should be used to this by now. In a way, I suppose I am. I know what and how much to pack. I know what tickets I need, the times to book for. I know where to go and who to talk to. I know how to do everything in such a way that I will cause myself the lowest amount of discomfort. But as it always is when I travel between Calgary and Winchester, I have this feeling of leaving one home to go to another. I don’t want to leave, but I also don’t want to stay.
Growing up I was never told that it’s possible to have more than one home. Sometimes I feel like I’m being pulled in two different directions. I wish the world were smaller.
There’s no point in staying while all my friends have gone. Classes have stopped so there’s nothing to do.
I miss the mountains, but I know I’ll miss the hills. I miss snow but I’m going to miss rain. I miss my dog but I’m sure at some point I’ll think about the cat that wanders in and out of student residences if you leave your window open and can be found sleeping on the stairs on occasion.
In a way, I suppose nothing will last. The two towns that have my heart will someday become three or four or five. Life will go on and someday what I miss will no longer be there to return to, replaced with time and change.
I try not to dwell on it too much. I have so much to look forward to, wherever I happen to be going. But days like these, right before an ending, are when the pulls are strongest.