All day today I had this niggling feeling that there was something significant about today's date: the 28th. July 28th...28th 28th...hm... Then Kelly and I were discussing how quickly the summer's gone, and it dawned. Two months until my departure date. In late May (when I got my placement) I still had allllllll summer, and now I have two months. Two months including a week at my grandparents' 60th wedding anniversary, another week at my other grandparents' in Tuscon, a weekend in San Diego with beautiful friends and a week in DC with the BFF...two months gets whittled down pretty quickly. There's stuff to do still! Kelly and I have Catalina tickets, and we're waiting on Disneyland tickets (as well as her completion of the MCAT so she can do something other than study). I still have So Cal things to do like ride a bus and DO Hollywood/LA (whatever that means). This is my chance; who knows when I'll be back here again? And none of that even includes the shopping still to be done (the list includes long johns, a sleeping bag, boots, and of course, more socks), the packing to figure out, the memberships and subscriptions to cancel...oi! It's going to be a busy two months.
I realised a few weeks ago (and it's probably pretty obvious by now) that my enthusiasm for leaving had begun to wane. I am no longer poring over books about Ukraine, studying my phrases relentlessly, or checking the current weather/temperatures in Europe. And maybe it's not that my passion has deflated so much as it has given way to reality. In these short two months, my life will gradually be divided up into little parts that will remain here or there or somewhere else, and I have to decide that now. There are necklaces and earrings and tops to bequeath to my lovely sisters, but which ones will "translate" into Ukrainian fashion? The few sicks of furniture and appliances I own must be farmed out, and which are on "loan" and which are to be given? How much exactly IS 50 pounds per suitcase? Should I bring texts/books/other resources? I want to bring my laptop, but how do I insure it? Which pieces of my current life will be able to go with me, and what will I actually want when I'm there?
But dividing my life isn't about stuff, really. Those things I can figure out. It's the realizing that I'm subtracting myself from my people that has sunk reality into my imminent departure. I can bring a favorite t-shirt and pair of earrings to remind me of me, but I cannot uproot and transport my people. I won't be able to just call up friends to shoot the breeze any old time. I won't be able to crash friends' houses/apartments for dinner and a little hang out time. I won't have a roommate who's also a best friend and I won't attend themed birthday parties for my growing nieces and nephews. I can only imagine how many weddings I'll miss. Births, deaths. Life will go on, and I will of course have my own adventure as well, and I will establish my own community, but it's hard not to feel loss at the life I leave behind. And perhaps this is where starry-eyed enthusiasm gets real.
It's really not about what's being removed, subtracted. I'm not actually losing anything, because my people will still be here. They will be changed, and so will I. But they're always my people. I signed up for this adventure, and I'm still thrilled to take it on. But in less than two months, I will have to say good bye to a lot of who I am now and the life that makes up "me." And I think it will be hard.
So, the reality is that I have two months. I have tickets to Disneyland and a cell phone and an awesome station wagon to take me wherever I will go. To whomever I will go, even. And when two months are over, I will say goodbye to stuff, to people, and, in a sense, to part of me. I will have divided up my life to the point that it really will only be me leaving, and I'll find out exactly who that person is. And I think I will like her. I cherish those who have brought me here and loved me, and I am stoked to be able to take this person to another corner of the world and to share what's been lavished, and to have the favor added right back. My people will still and always be my people, different, but my people. And that's the beauty of multiplying.
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