Only a bit of a blurb today—I’m in the “finals frenzy” and I can’t quite qualify too much more procrastination.
Another week gone, and I find myself with less than a week left in Prague. Five days.
The way that those words hover in my fingertips before they hit the keys seems to capture best the disbelief, the bursts of excitement and anxiety and expectation and reluctance and confusion that have marked my last few days. How many songs have they written about this—the whole “don’t blink” syndrome? My parents and brother have over the years witnessed quite a few many Megan-meltdowns as I lament the swift passage of time (remember that November I actually burst into tears because fall went by too quickly?)
Today myself and Alyssa and Liv and Brookie and James are sitting in a pew at St. Thomas. It’s First Communion Day and the kids are just glowing, this seven year old girl proclaims the reading in a way that says, “Hey people, listen up—things are getting real here,” the acapella trio choir is joined enthusiastically by the congregation. We’re all just so light, and when we hug each other for the sign of peace we all know we’re in the same place. We’ve been in that “funk” for a few days now—that “funk” where we question: Did I do the right thing coming abroad? Did I use my time well? What will it be like going back? Did I allow myself to grow, even if it was painful? The list rattles on and on. But standing next to each other there, we can’t help but just smile and hold each other tight and forget all the hesitation for a while because we realize how much we’ve grown to love each other.
So bring on that rainy day, we say. We gather in a dorm room, bumping into each other in the kitchen as we make pancakes and eggs, and one knock on the door at a time we fill up the room. We’ve all got people back at home, people we love and miss and cry over and cry to. But on a rainy Sunday, we also have each other.
‘Til next time