Moving to a new place is a confusing snarl of “goodbyes” and “hellos.” In the week before I left Siloam Springs, I was running around trying to give a goodbye hug to everyone, and now I’m stuck in a loop of “Hi-I’m-Ginger”s and “Where-are-you-from?”s and “What-are-you-taking?”s. It’s emotional whiplash: from the deepest expressions of love to the shallowest formulae of getting-to-know-you.
I say this because it’s been a long time since I’ve felt as loved and valued as I do having just left for the semester. Saying goodbye for three and a half months has, in one sense, been beautiful, because it’s forced me to be honest about how much I love my family and friends (and, fortunately, vice versa). No kidding around, no sarcastic teasing, just “I love you. I’ll miss you. I’m so blessed that you’re in my life.”
Conversely, it’s terrible coming to a new place and having to forge new emotional connections. It isn’t that I dislike any of the other students I’ve met here; it’s that I don’t know them. Without shared time and experiences, they’re strangers that I’m forced to engage with on a purely shallow level. I have no doubt that I’ll grow to love many people here, but I wish I could just jump straight to the emotional intimacy and skip the pleasantries.
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