Home Again, A Fortnight Later

[thrihyrne]

My dear friend T. emailed me shortly after I returned from Scotland and mentioned that it was usually at the two week mark when the real “I’m back now” feelings settled in for her. It appears that I’m the same way. Two weeks ago this time almost exactly, I was arriving safely (and gratefully so) at Chicago O’Hare’s airport. I’m now back into every routine I normally have in autumn: kids Mondays and Thursdays and every other weekend beginning Thursdays; choir practice Wednesdays; church at 8:15 on Sundays; work M-Fri, 9 to 5; our first opera of the season next week.

At church on Sunday, which was a really great service musically- fabulous selections, both anthems and hymns, and the choir truly felt like an ensemble- at an early point in the sermon I found myself thinking, “Two weeks ago I was in that tiny Anglican church in Stornoway.” Two weeks ago I was introducing myself to people because my accent gave away that I was a visitor, crying after the service as I walked through the quiet streets back to my B&B, trying not to cry but the service was so heartachingly real led by a young couple (there were maybe 25 of us there, total), wandering down to the harbor and thinking that unbelievably, tomorrow (Monday of that week) I would have to leave and come back to… the regular routine. And I couldn’t stand it. I didn’t want to leave.

There is something about being on a holiday that makes the time both expand beyond measure and also shrink so quickly when the time passes so fast; this isn’t news to anyone, but as I took a walk today after work it, of course, made me think of my week when I didn’t have a car, when I walked everywhere and the grocery store and the Lews Castle and the post office were all within a 5 minute walk. That Sunday afternoon when most everything was closed, I spent a goodly while repacking, which of course made me melancholy but not overly so, as I still had hours to go, and one last day in Edinburgh, but then I just lounged. I wrote, and had the cup of noodles that I’d bought on Saturday, and wrote some more, and petted the cat when she came by to visit, and even took a short nap, listened to music, and lay on “my” bed and looked at my friend Amy’s card I’d brought with me, and the framed card from edrys in their now-familiar places on my bedside table, and was so grateful for that time, and my little room with the open window and the sound of wind and rain (of course! It rained all day Sunday) and thinking with unreality, “Well, in two days I’ll be back in Nashville.” I really did live in the moment while I was there, trying to resist counting down the hours until I would have to return, probably a habit I should pursue more often. Living in the moment, that is.

While I was in the Outer Hebrides, living the crazy trip I had been quasi planning for months, from time to time I would mentally place myself back in my stepson’s room, showing him on his globe where I was going, and think how absolutely wonderful it was that my family and friends were all doing there thing back over in the States while I was doing my thing across the ocean, up off the northwest coast of Scotland. That we all were doing as we had to, or wished to, all on this big, round earth. I think about that a lot since I have close friends across the globe in Australia, and a brother in India, but with a shorter distance it made it almost more real, though as I sniffled my way home from that church service on Sunday, it just made me sad. I walked home in the drizzle, looking at the forest planted by a man who had made what would be trillions of dollars today in the opium trade around the turn of the century, and realized that as I thought of friends and family six hours behind me, that it wasn’t with the adventurous, “Yes! And how cool that I’m off being myself and they’re happy over there.” It had become, “Hmm. And now this is going to be a moment that I’m living now and I’ll end up writing about in my livejournal or in my diary in the future because this, too, will pass. I’ll have my last few hours wandering around the ‘bustling metropolis’ of Stornoway, and then I’ll call the same taxi driver I had when I arrived, and then I’ll be in Edinburgh, and then… oh then I’ll be in the Heathrow airport and then I’ll be flying, flying. And back home.”

And here I am, two weeks later.

Coming back is also interesting in trying to explain it to other people. Coworkers, fellow singers, anybody. People outside of my close friends seemed to be fascinated that I went by myself (some seemed to be rather envious). Close friends and people who have known me for a long time simply ask, “So, which cold country are you going to this year?” But being asked, “How was your trip?” gets a bit old. I began to settle on, “Mostly wonderful; had some low points, lots of rain and wind, but you don’t go to the Hebrides for the weather. Mostly it was absolutely what I wanted and needed and I’m so glad I went.”

How else to say- Brilliant. Dismal. Introspective. Quiet. Windywindywindy. Rainyrainyrainy. Joking with the B&B owners. The white cat who became my friend. Being self-deprecating in a bus shelter watching the rain blow horizontally. Watching crofters do their thing herding sheep during a blazingly blue-skied 45 minutes near yet another bus shelter. Listening to women in a thrift shop speak Gaelic to each other and me not having a clue. Eating lunch near Lews castle then moving myself and my soggy food under a tree as it, of course, began to rain. Wandering the grocery store aisles and deciding, after much thought, *not* to get the Harry Potter chocolate cake mix because it wouldn’t fit in my suitcase. The bus driver who let people off at their houses (and by name) on the northernmost tip of the isle of Lewis, then him looking back at me, rather startled to realize that there was one, last unaccounted-for person still on the bus. Seven evenings in a row where I sat in a comfy chair in front of the window and wrote pages and pages on my purple legal pads, followed each day by manic one-hour free internet typing sprees at the one-room Stornoway library. Chipping my tooth. Singing hymns in a church so small (or minus an organist) there was no organ, so we sang along with CDs of the music. Touching the Callanish standing stones I saw in that New York Times article back in July.

Being me, and that was all.

Maybe I’ll perk up when I can see some of my pictures. Which, yes, I will of course invite you all to look at as well.

Comments

[helveticat.livejournal.com]

*is speechless*

That... was as good as a book. I'm going to copy it and save it and read it often, because it goes to the same place my imagination goes. I can absolutely see you there, sitting in front of that window, writing away as you face the fog or rain or wind, and I'm smelling the same smells right along with you. Incredible.

*wonders why you don't write a whole book of stuff like this... seriously*

Don't you dare be speechless!

[thrihyrne.livejournal.com]

I'd go through liciawithdrawal, and I couldn't bear that!

That... was as good as a book.

You are very kind. Just spouting forth with a few ideas, but I am so grateful that you think it's worth reading!! It pleases me so much that you felt you could experience it all with me. I swear that one of these days I'm going to kidnap you, and you and Jen and I will go to the Hebrides, or Ireland, and have a blast.

A whole book of it? Not sure. But I am actually pondering original fic, surprise, surprise. Some vague something so far about darklings and the Greater Consciousness and neglected lines of DNA that vanished with those various lines of hominids and some poor guy in his mid-30s who gets somehow affected by this after a psycholocigal breakdown...

or something. ;)

In the meantime, I'll try to be your agent for Seabird and I need to get caught up on Twilight since I'm so enjoying the soundtrack.

[twilights-abode.livejournal.com]

Oh wow....

I debated even commenting because it could only come off stupid. But here I am going to look stupid for you..

*dances*

There is something about being on a holiday that makes the time both expand beyond measure and also shrink so quickly when the time passes so fast

^^
That is perfect.

I LOVE, LOVE, LOVE the way you look at the world. Your mind is simply brilliant. Wow...*still in shock*...thanks for sharing.

:-)

you<--- not being stupid

[thrihyrne.livejournal.com]

Hey there- please don't ever feel that anything you would say in this space sounds stupid. Ever.

I'm so glad you enjoyed the post- just a few thoughts that came to me last night as I was out walking, then listening to some mildly melancholy tunes.

See, now I'm at work and not thinking anything profound, so this stuff really just comes and goes. :P

love you sweety

[snottygrrl.livejournal.com]

you know your description of your trip is a good one for my entire two years over here. people (except those few close to me) don't seem to get that yes, it is fantastic, and scary and hard and wonderful and well, you know. i wouldn't change any of it, but that doesn't mean i'm in constant bliss over here....

sorry did not mean to go whinging....

yes, you do write beautiful things my dear.

assume you've seen my posts, and got my email as to the latest (i'm not sure what i will say to the next person that says congratulations - i can't decide what the universe is playing at [*whimper*])

anyway - i'll shut up, i need to send more emails anyway.....

hang in there sweety, don't forget to breathe [*wink*]

(((big hugs))) ♥ ♥

Re: love you sweety

[thrihyrne.livejournal.com]

assume you've seen my posts,

I have, but need to revisit them and I haven't checked email all day today, but I've decided to stay at work until I have choir practice so I can get caught up. I think I remember reading that you have another 6 months in NZ, though, right? So you can invest in proper computer equipment, DVD stuff, etc and convince Weta to hire you in a computer-oriented capacity?

people (except those few close to me) don't seem to get that yes, it is fantastic, and scary and hard and wonderful and well, you know.

Yes. But you were brave enough to actually pack up and move to the country. Thus far, all I've done is visit. Tho' I did see a couple of islands for sale... ;)

Re: love you sweety

[snottygrrl.livejournal.com]

I think I remember reading that you have another 6 months in NZ, though, right?

yup, that is right. but i'm out of money and utterly shattered and sick, so not really buying anything until i am gainfully employed. will try weta though i may just slouch around working part time, do some king kong and return to the states. we'll see....

not feeling so brave these days.....

[eldritchhobbit.livejournal.com]

Such beautiful descriptions - can't wait for pictures!

You're too kind...

[thrihyrne.livejournal.com]

Thank you for the feedback! I'll definitely be sharing pictures when I get them. *goes off to check email account and see if they're there*

p.s. love your icon! I think I may have to have a jedi knight to go with my twin. One serious, one not so serious. The quote in the icon is wonderful. Sounds very... Vulcan. ;)

Whoops. Except they don't have emotions. *facepalm*

Re: You're too kind...

[eldritchhobbit.livejournal.com]

LOL! It's Jedi, actually, but then again so is this: "There is no Passion; there is Serenity." That sounds very Vulcan too, no? :) Happy Jedi-hunting! ;)