Leaving home

8/25/24

Tonight is the last night I am spending at home before moving away to college. This should feel very big and monumental but it is just any other night: sitting in my bed, candle burning, writing, and listening to music. You could pick out this night from a lineup of any ordinary evening from the past four years of my life.

Things are changing though. My bedroom floor is strewn with overflown suitcases carrying too many dresses and I stare at the bare parts of my room from where old posters hung—the bits of tape remain clung to these four walls. After tomorrow this place will become my “childhood home”. I haven’t grasped what that means because it still feels so abstract. How is it possible that I am leaving everything I know and love in less than 24 hours?

I can’t even describe the love I have for New York. I’ve spent the past few days roaming around and taking it all in one last time. Every corner of the city is a place I’ve grown to cherish. I could walk up and down the streets of brownstones on the Upper West Side over and over. Or spend eternity lying in the grass fields facing Belvedere’s Castle. Even waiting for the six train after a tumultuous night is something I will grow to miss.

8/26/24

I wake up with my plan for the final day home. How daunting. I knew I had to make pancakes as my last breakfast just as I have every Saturday since elementary school. By now the recipe has been ingrained in my mind for many years so the whole process moves like clockwork. Although my morning routine has stayed consistent for so long, I still enjoy every day I get to start my day blasting Etta James in the kitchen while whipping together eggs, milk, flour, and all.

Chocolate chip pancakes

I decided to go to the Met one last time since it was the close of summer and I still hadn’t managed to see the exhibition on the roof. It’s always so beautiful there around this time. You can see the entire city skyline and simultaneously enjoy the art in front of you. The sun is always sharply beaming down on the taupe stone slabs of the floor so that your eyes uncomfortably squint to see every building appearing superimposed along the periphery of the park.

As I stared out past the greenery of Central Park, I felt a sharp twinge of sadness knowing it would be long before I would be back. It’s such a surreal feeling knowing it is your last time (for a while) being somewhere you visit virtually every day (by this I mean the park). Everyone does this—everyone leaves and manages to deal with it one way or another. I know this yet it was still so menacing to think of it all as I stood by these thick-wire sprawling statues that reached toward the blue sky.

Petrit Halilaj, Abetare

8/27/24

When I landed it was around 12pm and I had just woken up from a four-hour nap. The redeye flight finally ended and my dad and I groggily made our way out of the airport and into the city centre. I’M IN PARIS! I DID IT!

8/29/24

It is officially night two living in my dorm. Yesterday was an extremely hectic whirl of opening a French bank account, moving into my dorm, buying every household supply I could think of, getting groceries, and unpacking the life I packed into four suitcases. This is hard work! Seriously I don’t remember ever having so many errands to run back-to-back. How has everyone else managed to do this?

By the time everything was unpacked the clock read 11:30pm and I was so exhausted I hadn’t even processed the fact that I just moved into my new “home” for the next nine months. My dad had been gone for about three hours and I realized I was really alone for the first time in my life. Of course, I’ve stayed home alone for extended periods—but that’s my home. This was different. A whole new country, new people, new culture, new timezone, new routine, everything. I stared out the window and could not believe what I saw was the lamp of the Eiffel Tower rotating again, again, and again.

I began to feel quite overwhelmed with the thought of it all—not yet homesick but craving some sense of familiarity. It was only the first night! God, am I going to be bad at this?

It was a smart idea for me to bring as many stuffed animals as I did because I, an 18-year-old, relied on them to fall asleep that night.

. . .

The eventual panic wore off by the time the sun rays crept past my shades and I heard the sound of construction outside my window. Good morning new world!

Today has been a good day even though I woke up in a sweat because the French don’t do AC (ugh). I fired up my new coffee pot, watched some TV, and even got lunch with one of my high school classmates who happened to be in Paris! I’m still adjusting to life here obviously. It is all still very jarring to me—having conversations on the go with my limited French-speaking skills, but I get by just fine.

Already, I feel a lot more comfortable tonight compared to yesterday. I think the loneliness I felt (and am still learning to cope with) is due to the fact that I have yet to meet people from my school. Because of this, I don’t really have people to reach out to. But I remind myself that will change!!! (Literally will change by tomorrow!!!) So I should not freak out. But this drastic change in my life justifies a freakout.

Is this adulthood? Hmmmmm. I don’t know how to feel about it yet.