I'm a little unsure of what to do with myself right now, mostly because I have such a finite amount of time left in my city--time in which I have to cram in so many goodbyes, so many "I-won't-forget-you-please-talk-to-me-on-the-internets," and, I feel, tie up so many loose ends. It's a weird, bittersweet feeling. I spend evenings with my friends and know that I will not see them again for at least a year--maybe longer.

My city never seemed so beautiful to me before, especially in the early evening, when the sun's light is rich and mellow and the air seems thick with promise. Everyone is laughing, having drinks on the sidewalk, wearing chic sunglasses and basking in the midsummer loveliness. How much will I miss this place, when I am gone? I can't imagine calling another town home, but somehow I know I will; and at this very time next year, I may even be sad to leave, to come back here. This place, this city, will not be my home after I leave. It will be a place to come back to, but my home will be nowhere, less clearly defined than it has ever been before. I will have to make my own home again, and it will not be easy.

But I am so excited. There is so much promise, so much life to be lived, waiting for me in another city a continent away. I am prepared for the difficulties of life in another culture, of homesickness for Americana, of being unsure of my place and my role in things. I am prepared for these things, and yet, I find that--after all--I am a little scared. But it is more of a giddiness, a feeling of release mixed with trepidation. It is hard to explain.

And I find (in this pensive mood I seem to have lapsed into) that I love so many people. I have always thought of my circle as being small, comprised of a few people who matter the most to me. But now I realize that there are so many people I care about here. I care about everyone I have ever met, befriended and been changed by. I am thankful for them all, even the ones who are no longer my friends, whom I have traded unkind words with, even people who I barely know anymore. They have shaped me, made me who I am today, and I am stronger for it. Oddly, I catch myself reminiscing about the good times I've had with people who I haven't seen or been friends with in years. This is what uprooting myself engenders. Fond memories and an overwhelming sense of peace. With myself, with the people around me, with my situation.

Maybe I'll use this last week here to tell everybody I know how cool they are, how full they've made my life. That would be fun.