I really should have spent the morning packing and finishing up last-minute errands around town, but instead I spent the early hours of the day sitting with Scout by the roaring wood stove, watching Frazier, drinking coffee and eating pumpkin bread. It was perfect. Now I'm procrastinating further by typing this entry before taking my final Muse Road walk of the season (and my first Muse walk of the year), with the hopes that I'll find it in myself to pack up sometime before dinner. (A very far-fetched hope).
The last few days have been very emotional for me, as the shock and novelty of being back in Botetourt is finally wearing off and I'm remembering all the annoyances and dead-ends of this area that drove me to seek school abroad in the first place. But I've also grown a bit panicked about leaving again, as I've settled back into a comfortable routine of sleeping in my own bed, in my own room, surrounded by my collections of Ironbound rocks, old bottles, and all of my books, waking up every morning and coming downstairs to my family, a cozy fire and a pot of (Dunkin Donuts) coffee. It's always difficult to move, grow and change and Ireland represents all three of these things in my life.
The changes that have come from my time in Ballyvaughan have been overwhelmingly positive and necessary. I know that living in Ballyvaughan is making me a stronger, kinder, deeper, more creative, more generous, and overall better person and I appreciate it for that.
The only catch is that these changes don't come about from a life of easy, luxurious comfort. Not that Ballyvaughan is in any way uncomfortable…I mean, I live in a very charming house, with considerate, thoughtful and, most importantly, fun fellow students, I have my own room, a shower and a community of vibrant, supportive and warm people that I've thoroughly enjoyed getting to know the last few months. But it's always hard to leave what's warm and familiar for what's wind-blown and slightly less familiar, even if the latter is what will ultimately take you to a better and more rewarding future. (I should also mention that Boco's role of the "more comfortable" place will completely reverse during the summer months when I'll be THRILLED to be in a country whose summer afternoons don't consist of regular 100 degree, full humidity, tornado warnings and power outages. It will be nice to live with open windows and bright skies and I will become exceedingly spoiled).
I think the bottom line at this point, is that I'll always have a home in Ireland and in America, and no matter where I am, there will be aspects of the other home pulling at my soul. I can't help but see this as the blessing that it is, and determine to enjoy wherever I am blessed to live to the absolute fullest. Having said this, I'll make a toast to Boco with one final mug of coffee, and mark my arrival in Clare with a lovely pack of dark chocolate Digestives. Cheers.
My bedroom view at home
One of my choice memories of this trip at home were the multiple times I overheard my niece, Emma singing the Sweeney Todd classic, "Not While I'm Around" to herself as she played quietly in the corner of the room. (Always beginning with the phrase "demons are prowling everywhere"…reminds me of those gloriously scandalous after-quiet-hours-Sweeney-Todd shower duets at LU with Elizabeth).
Scout is by far the hardest member of the family to leave, mostly because I can't Skype with her. I'll miss snuggling with her in the mornings and during those late night House-Hunters viewings.
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