I am a dot. On a global scale, I am a dot, in a dot, on a map. From my childhood I have always known this. I have always understood this. And in that clichéd, yet personal way, I want to connect the dots.
I ended my exchange essay application with this sentence. It’s cheesy and overused and yes, I did mention it is a cliché (but, hey it worked, I am in New Zealand after all) – but it’s true.
It’s been exactly four months and five days since I left Canada and the irony in all of this is despite the fact I was terrified to leave, I’m equally upset I can’t stay.
Back in January, my friend Genée was privy to one of my usual emotional breakdowns. It was the middle of the night and as we sat on my friend’s front porch I couldn’t help but cry because I was about to take the biggest step of my life, yet, and I was afraid that when I returned in August I wouldn’t belong.
Of course it’s something she will roll her eyes at because of course I am nothing short of dramatic, but I have to agree with her.
If I could go back five months to that night I would shake myself.
I would shake myself because leaving doesn’t mean you won’t belong when you get back.
Leaving means you’ll belong to a whole lot more: to the places you’ve been and the places you’ll go.