A daring adventure
While sitting at work today, it hit me that in two months, I will be living and studying in another country. It seems I spend a lot of time watching time slip away lately – two months left as an employee of an organization I spent the better part of my life dreaming of working for. Two months left in a city I have come to love. Two months left in the arms of a girl with whom I have fallen in love. Two months left until I begin what in many ways I perceive to be my adult life.
Twelve years ago, having just graduated high school, I opted to spend the summer at home rather than in the mountains of Lebanon where I spent most summers. I and a group of friends met our cross country coach at our school each morning for a run followed by breakfast before heading off to our summer jobs. It was a wonderful way to spend a few final days with a group of friends most of whom I had known since grade school.
With my colleagues all going to schools which began after Labor Day, I was the first to leave for college. Purdue started on August 19th that year, so I left home on the 15th. My mother and both brothers accompanied me to Indiana – the summer had been particularly difficult for us with my parents having split up in June and my mother wanted us to deliver me to school as a family. Our flight was scheduled to leave that afternoon, so that morning, I went running one last time with my friends.
We were making our way around the track at our school when it hit me that tomorrow would be a very different day. Tomorrow, I wouldn’t be in a comfortable place where I knew everybody and everybody knew me – where I was happy and settled and where my future goals were still in the future, waiting for me to finish playing. Tomorrow I would be in a new place pursuing a goal I had dreamed of for years, but which had always been comfortably distant. Tomorrow, things would never be the same again. I remember that moment very distinctly – I was suddenly terrified.
I had no doubt this was the right thing to do, was confident in my ability to form new friendships and find a new comfort zone – I wasn’t irrational and I didn’t panic – I was just scared. So I began to cry a little bit – then a little more, and then much more. I cried for the rest of the run, the walk to breakfast, while we ate, the walk back to the school and the ride home. I cried in my mother’s arms when I got home and while I packed. My best friend Bart came over to say goodbye – he saw how scared I was, so stayed and helped me gather my things. Then he drove behind our car to the airport, just to see me off. I rode with my mother – I felt it would be rude not to – but he didn’t mind. He followed us all the way to the airport just so he could give me one last hug before I got onto the plane. I wonder if he knows how much that meant to me.
As predicted, life did go on and twelve years later, I look back on a set adventures and accomplishments with pride. I have felt similar trepidation with each life change – the move to California for graduate school, then to France for a year abroad. Even moving out of a house and into an apartment led to tear-filled nights…given how much I crave adventure, it still surprises me how difficult I find change.
So here I sit, poised to resign my job with NASA and my ballet contracts, to give up a pleasant life of evening strolls and picnics with my love in pursuit of the sort of idealistic goal everyone warns against. Ignoring those warnings has proven to be a formula for happiness in my life – I am certain this is the right decision. It’s not four years of medical school in a foreign land or being far away from home that has me scared – it’s how I’ll handle the morning I have to say good-bye.
P.S. “Life is either a daring adventure or nothing" says Helen Keller - she's right. See this picture - the oasis of green trees and red-tiled roofs on the edge of bustling Beirut is where I will spend the next four years!
Twelve years ago, having just graduated high school, I opted to spend the summer at home rather than in the mountains of Lebanon where I spent most summers. I and a group of friends met our cross country coach at our school each morning for a run followed by breakfast before heading off to our summer jobs. It was a wonderful way to spend a few final days with a group of friends most of whom I had known since grade school.
With my colleagues all going to schools which began after Labor Day, I was the first to leave for college. Purdue started on August 19th that year, so I left home on the 15th. My mother and both brothers accompanied me to Indiana – the summer had been particularly difficult for us with my parents having split up in June and my mother wanted us to deliver me to school as a family. Our flight was scheduled to leave that afternoon, so that morning, I went running one last time with my friends.
We were making our way around the track at our school when it hit me that tomorrow would be a very different day. Tomorrow, I wouldn’t be in a comfortable place where I knew everybody and everybody knew me – where I was happy and settled and where my future goals were still in the future, waiting for me to finish playing. Tomorrow I would be in a new place pursuing a goal I had dreamed of for years, but which had always been comfortably distant. Tomorrow, things would never be the same again. I remember that moment very distinctly – I was suddenly terrified.
I had no doubt this was the right thing to do, was confident in my ability to form new friendships and find a new comfort zone – I wasn’t irrational and I didn’t panic – I was just scared. So I began to cry a little bit – then a little more, and then much more. I cried for the rest of the run, the walk to breakfast, while we ate, the walk back to the school and the ride home. I cried in my mother’s arms when I got home and while I packed. My best friend Bart came over to say goodbye – he saw how scared I was, so stayed and helped me gather my things. Then he drove behind our car to the airport, just to see me off. I rode with my mother – I felt it would be rude not to – but he didn’t mind. He followed us all the way to the airport just so he could give me one last hug before I got onto the plane. I wonder if he knows how much that meant to me.
As predicted, life did go on and twelve years later, I look back on a set adventures and accomplishments with pride. I have felt similar trepidation with each life change – the move to California for graduate school, then to France for a year abroad. Even moving out of a house and into an apartment led to tear-filled nights…given how much I crave adventure, it still surprises me how difficult I find change.
So here I sit, poised to resign my job with NASA and my ballet contracts, to give up a pleasant life of evening strolls and picnics with my love in pursuit of the sort of idealistic goal everyone warns against. Ignoring those warnings has proven to be a formula for happiness in my life – I am certain this is the right decision. It’s not four years of medical school in a foreign land or being far away from home that has me scared – it’s how I’ll handle the morning I have to say good-bye.
P.S. “Life is either a daring adventure or nothing" says Helen Keller - she's right. See this picture - the oasis of green trees and red-tiled roofs on the edge of bustling Beirut is where I will spend the next four years!
posted by Nicholas at 9:03 PM
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