I have reached the interlude of my summer. These past seven (almost eight) weeks have been quite the whirlwind-- or at least in comparison to what I am accustomed to in regards to summer vacation. Between my summer internship, biology course, "light" reading, blogging, and the untimely death of my grandfather, it is hard to believe that so much has happened in such a fairly short amount of time. I have a feeling that this next half of the summer might be less... chaotic? Yet I know that the final weeks before my departure for Paris will surely be pandemonium-- packing a year's worth of everything and preparing on an emotional and mental level.
It's hard to imagine what life will be like seven weeks and two days from now-- the day I exchange Dallas, Texas for Paris, France. I would be fooling myself if I planned on it being completely different. I'll wake up and most likely feel as if I am embarking on any ordinary trip, gather my last minute items (contacts, glasses, toothbrush, laptop, and, impulsively, a book I probably will never end up reading). I'll load my bags into the car and hop in myself, anticipating the numerous times my mother will turn to ask me, "are you sure you have your passport? Your plane ticket? Everything?" I'll answer "yes," slightly more irritated each time, and as DFW-Airport comes into sight, a gaping hole will produce itself in the pit of my stomach, and I will immediately regret my decision-- a side-effect of overexcitement trying to trick me out of my dream. Before exiting the car, I will take a deep breath, observe the meaningless parking lot and then the driver's seat where my mom will be seated about to ask me, "you ready?" or "are you going to be okay?" Or both. I will then start to cry, if I hadn't already, and as I unload my bags and approach the security line, my mom and I will reassure me that everything will be fine, that I am ready, that I never wanted anything more than I want this. And then I will go.
Only time will tell if I have envisioned this spot-on. Imagining my life in a different setting--both physical and mental--is almost impossible for me. I think of only the more "glamorous" moments rather than taking a more realistic approach. I know very well that this experience will throw some curved balls at me, but I also know that I am not alone in the desire to ignore this fact, this undeniable truth. I will miss my home, my family and friends, and, probably most of all, I will miss my sister. Yes, my sister is family, of course, but she is really something so much more. Though only four and a half years apart, I often joke that we were meant to be twins, only she wasn't quite ready yet. I like to think that she knows how important she is to me, but perhaps she does not. So incase you ever second-guess it, Mowmao, you are my true best friend.
Why am I reflecting now, so far in advance? Probably because this has been my first chance since arriving home from school that I have had the chance to think without the pressure of other things needing to be done, needing my attention. I think of Paris, France, and Europe every single day, yet I have failed to consider all that I will leave behind thoroughly.
Who will I be a year from now? Six months from now? Two months from now? That person is in the making and is only to be bettered, more colorful, more passionate, more reflective. New experiences bring on new facets, new features for one's personality and character, and oftentimes, these details are visible to others and, especially, to oneself. If there is one thing I anticipate most about this experience, it is not the guaranteed improvement of my French, nor is it the classes I will take, the friends I will make, or the new places I will visit. It is the way in which, as a result of all of these minor ingredients in my journey, I will see the world-- the way I will embrace life through my more developed and more seasoned eyes. For as my beloved Marcel Proust said, "The real voyage of discovery consists not in seeking new landscapes, but in having new eyes."
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