I'm afraid that my pen has gotten a bit rusty while it lay almost unused this past month and a half. My extended break has been spent mostly reading Lord of the Rings through for the first time (amazing), buying this and that for my overseas journey, and completing various tasks and projects at my house, not to mention a week-long trip to Minnesota to visit my best friends, a wonderful time, as always.
Now the floor of my room is cluttered with suitcases, loose clothing, and the occasional distended dust bunny. Tomorrow morning, my family will take me to the airport with these items and I shall leave my family, this time for much longer and to a much greater distance than ever before. And that is something to ponder.
We see that always things come to an end: we leave people whom we love or they leave us, the credits scroll up, the pieces go back in the box, the last chord fades, fades, fades, although perhaps it has not resolved, and we find ourselves sitting in an airport, waiting, with a journey before us.
I do not think that I shall ever quite understand leavings and endings. Nor beginnings, perhaps.
And I wonder what waits at St. Andrews...
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