Farewell, Dear Scotland

Packing. Cleaning. Procrastinating. Packing some more. Thinking of all the wonderful memories created over the past two months. The newness, the excitement of an unexplored country. The fluffy clouds, the rambling hills. The trees and birds and flowers and bees. The sheep -oh, my darling Blackface sheep, how I will miss you. The horses and rivers and scenic roads. The castles and abbeys, each telling stories of their own. The country side and the bustling city, grateful to have experienced both. 

Edinburgh Castle

Even the tough days, the not so fun days, had something to teach me. Learning, always learning. I discovered that in those moments when confusion and overwhelm take over, if you just pause and breathe and have faith, something shifts. Clarity comes in and calmness replaces chaos.The right people show up, the perfect words are said, the pieces of the puzzle somehow all seem to fit. I had guardian angels stepping in everywhere on this trip and I am so grateful to have met such amazing people (you know who you are!). 

Someone asked me yesterday if I was ready to go home and I wasn't sure how to answer. 

Boats in Portree, Isle of Skye

I don't have that, ugh I'm done with this holiday and ready to be home feeling that usually accompanies the end of a trip. I suppose it's because this was more than just a holiday; it was a kind of hybrid of a vacation and living abroad. Too long for one, too short for the other. So I guess if I were to be completely honest, I don't feel ready to leave, but I know it's time. Time to go back and figure some things out -career, where to live, those pesky little things that need attention. 

Forest at Yellowcraig Beach

I feel like I'll be back here someday, and that thought keeps me from dwelling on the goodbyes for too long. After all, I still have so many more castles to chase! As I get ready to leave this country that now feels like home, one of my favorite poems comes to mind. It reminds me that life is unfolding exactly as it should. 

One Art

The art of losing isn't hard to master;

so many things seem filled with the intent

to be lost that their loss is no disaster.

Lose something every day. Accept the fluster

of lost door keys, the hour badly spent.

The art of losing isn't hard to master.

Then practice losing farther, losing faster:

places, and names, and where it was you meant

to travel. None of these will bring disaster.

I lost my mother's watch. And look! my last, or

next-to-last, of three loved houses went.

The art of losing isn't hard to master.

I lost two cities, lovely ones. And, vaster,

some realms I owned, two rivers, a continent.

I miss them, but it wasn't a disaster.

---Even losing you (the joking voice, a gesture

I love) I shan't have lied. It's evident

the art of losing's not too hard to master

though it may look like (Write it!) like disaster.

-- Elizabeth Bishop