I always feel an odd sadness when I realize my inevitable departure to university is approaching again; the kind of sadness that, when you let it rise up in you, just leaves you to sigh.
It isn't so much that I don't want to go back. I absolutely love the course and my independent lifestyle up there. It's just I feel sad to be leaving people behind, saying goodbye to friends and family and not knowing when I'm going to see them again. I am yet to feel the kind of closeness, attachment and affection to anywhere or anyone in Cardiff as I feel for my house and my family; the kind of affection that makes you feel at home.
However, coming back to Plymouth recently I have found nostalgia to be waiting round every corner as I walk old shortcuts a younger me had discovered in his scruffy school uniform, scuffed shoes and ripped trousers. Again I sigh as I think back to these memories, monochrome mementos to a world that can't exist for me any more. I am older now. With every year comes more responsibility. I now understood why my parents always said I would miss my childhood once it was gone.
Once I am up in Cardiff again with my friends, this feeling tends to go away. It's just the leaving that's the hard part, thinking of all that's behind me.
I need to look forward instead, where Italy awaits me in a mere four weeks. Venice, Rome, Florence and the rolling hills of Tuscany lie waiting to be explored by this young intrepid traveller struggling with his rudimentary grasp on the Italian language. I'll blog it.
3 years ago