As I left the farm on Friday afternoon, I got the ever
familiar sinking feeling in my stomach – an utterly clichéd expression that
exactly expresses how you feel when fear suddenly washes over the sides of you.
Besides that and one teary moment after reading some lovely words from my dear
sister, I had no real dramatic change to my emotions as I left for Glasgow and
a year of postgraduate discovery. Perhaps I have just cultivated a greater
talent for repression, but I like to think that after traveling more,
auditioning more, being more independent, my anxiety about these kinds of
situations has naturally and maturely decreased.
At the airport, I met a completely different individual
going through much the same transition as me. And by met, I obviously mean
eavesdropped on and watched peripherally, because introductions and small talk
are not my forte. He too was traveling abroad (to London) to go to graduate
school (for computer science). He was the sort of person who looks much older
than they should but seems much younger than their actual age. It seems
painfully stereotypical, but he was short, dated and seriously balding with a
slight lisp, glasses and a passion for computers. He was also, as far as I
could tell, absolutely sweet and polite and radiating nervous energy, so much
so that I started questioning whether or not I was at the right gate, what if I
missed my flight, had I packed my wallet…
His mother was seated across from him, although she wasn’t
traveling herself. They spent much of the time anxiously checking the boarding
times, and texting or calling friends and family to say goodbye. The mother was
quite sociable and upbeat, chatting with the man next to her and keeping her
son’s spirits up, although at one point when he was rummaging in the bag on the
seat next to her, she raised and tilted her cheek and requested a kiss, which
he dutifully and lovingly bestowed – a small reassurance for both of them that
everything would be all right.
As we got closer and closer to boarding, he proffered a joke
about how this decision to move to London for graduate school was probably a
terrible mistake. The joke was delivered in that watery, half-whispered way
that people use when they’re actually completely serious. It was painful to hear
this last desperate cry for help. You could tell that all he wanted in that
moment was for his mother to say yes, yes it was and wrap him up in her arms
and take him home to familiar, to comfort, to safe. She, of course, didn’t. She
did exactly what she should, and told him she was proud of him and that this
was a great brave thing for him to do. She continued to utter these words of
support as we boarded. He was behind me in line, so I was privy to the
increasing panic in his breath as we got closer and closer. As I handed over my
ticket, I heard him burst into tears and could feel the heavy silence of his
mother letting him go. The fact that I could no longer see him somehow made his
emotions feel like mine, like how surround sound makes you feel like you’re in
the movie. I hurried onto the plane; I couldn’t handle being near him anymore.
I selfishly hoped that he wouldn’t be sitting next to me on the flight, knowing
I couldn’t offer him the reassurance I knew he’d need from a girl going through
much the same. What do I know about what risks are worth it, if we’ve made the
right decision, if life really does sort itself out for the best? He ended up
sitting far across the aisle from me, and when I accidentally caught his eye,
he gave me a little nervous wave. A last confirmation – I got on this plane,
like you, I’m here, and we’re all going somewhere.
I thought about him throughout the whole flight. In the
months leading up to me leaving, I’ve had countless people commend me for what
a risk I’m taking, how brave I am, how proud they are. And yes, it is a risk to
move to Glasgow for a year, pursue something that is so difficult and exposing
with people I’ve never met. And I’m also thankful that I’m well adjusted enough
to be able, at twenty-four, to travel alone and start over without too much
emotional turmoil or fear.
However, he is truly taking risk, is truly brave. When I saw him get
into his seat, I was proud that he actually got on the plane.
So, he shall be my inspiration for this year. To put myself
in situations where I go to the very precipitous edge of my comfort, not just
halfway there. To take risks. Not things that are commonly understood as risks,
but things I know are risks for me.
Here’s to watery jokes, panicked breaths and going somewhere.
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