A Good Sort of Sad

As I write this, the unshed tears make my eyes sting.

I'm missing my family in advance.

I cannot put into words the sheer excitement and wonder that take my breath away when I try to imagine my new life. I say try, because of course nothing will prepare me for the moment we get off the bus after a long and winding journey, and set foot for the first time in the dusty, crowded and noisy streets of Kathmandu. Looking around not as tourists, but as citizens. Walking through the throngs of people that first day, imagining which stall will become our favourite place to eat dhal bhat (traditional Nepali rice and lentil soup).

We arrive with no job, no home, no friends. So every interaction is jam packed with a thousand possibilities. I've never experienced anything like this, I've never been faced with so many opportunities opening up around me. Starting over new, a chance to reinvent myself, to push my bounderies, to embrace uncertainty. To study an Asian language, forcing my tongue into unpronounceable positions, smiling at saddhus as I skip between dozens of motorbikes, their owners pressing firmly and without pause on their high-pitched horns. Practicing yoga properly in a small alley studio before going home, picking up some spices whose name I don't know on the way back. I feel as though I'm stepping out of my life and into a brand new existance. One where electricity is not guaranteed.


Of course, the coin always has a flip side. In this case, leaving my family behind. Me being a difficult teenager and my parents being of the stricter sort, our relationship was best described as complicated for a good many years. With time, however, bridges have been rebuilt, forgiveness offered and received, and a new relationship has emerged. We see each other less than we should, living within a half hour drive, but the comfort of having them close is, I've now realized, priceless. I feel their love rushing down from Alella - the village where I grew up - into Barcelona.

Walking around Barcelona is becoming a constant state of fairwell, even though I know I'll be back. But most likely not until the world has slowly twirled around the sun at least twice more.

Honestly? The home sickness terrifies me. My father is the most generous man, I wish I had appreciated his gestures more in the past. I miss him more than he'll ever know and I haven't even left yet! They are all coming back now, his gestures, overwhelming my thoughts. Billions of small memories jostling for space. Did I mention I was very emotional lately? Sunday night my husband and I watched Legends of the Fall. If you're ever in need of a proper sob, I thoroughly recommend it. For the days leading up to Sunday I could feel the trickle of sadness build up in the back of my mind; during the film the damm broke. I bawled my eyes out. For a long time. Until I fell asleep.

In the 40-odd days left until we pack our suitcases, I plan on showing my family all the love I have for them. The appreciation for everything they do.

We often forget to realize how much our parents do for us; such is the "selfishness" of youth, and it saddens me that it took changing continents for this fact to kick home.

I love my family.