Rocking at Logan International Airport

I'm slumped in a rocking chair splitting my vision between the wonderful city of Boston and a reflection of tired travelers. Once again, I am finding myself at the threshold of yet another journey. What's it feel like? What's it look like?

Well lets start with the day before departure because it almost always follows the same basic pattern and helps sum up how it feels. My mother lovingly repairs the clothes I managed to destroy on the last adventure and alters the misshapen (but cheap!) clothes I purchased at thrift stores since. I donate the clothes I've always hated but kept around for various nostalgic reasons that have since faded into the callousness of time.

Simba purposely positions himself in increasingly adorable places (like inside my luggage) and rips and tears at my heart strings until I can barely breath. The soundtrack in the dome home is per usual: a cycle of beeps from the microwave of coffee being heated, reheated, tea being reheated, leftovers for lunch, and more coffee being reheated. My coffee mug transforms into a wine glass- Franzia providing much needed lubrication for the packing process. I listen to the cheesiest most optimistic country music I can find to prevent an emotional heart attack at the realization that I am yet again- leaving. I skip any sad, romantic, or high school glorifying county songs.

I pack too much and realize I don't have any friggen good shoes and vow that when I land i will purchase my deserving feet a new pair of awesome wear-with-everything shoes that don't actually exist. I get over-caffeniated and super excited and google image search the place I'm going- in this case: England.

We feed the chickens popcorn, hike the trails, have a bonfire, drink wine, sit in the hut tub, and watch home movies. We eat something I love- in todays case: artichokes and leftover pesto pasta, scallops, shrimp, and clams! I tie my hair into a braided bun that not only looks stylish as hell but will also act sort of like a pillow on the plane and practice my Airport look- the 'I'm a friendly person really but absolutely do not want to meet you at all-no offense" coy smile and my 'I acknowledge that we are both the same age, opposite sex, traveling together, and are both wearing Red Sox hats but it would never work out because life isn't actually a serendipitous Romantic Comedy and I'm going to ignore you now" expression.

I freak out and then settle down, pray my luggage isn't overweight, shimmy through security like a pro, fill my beloved canteen at the bubbler and find a corner to occupy.

I am flying to London on my way to the University of Oxford to study one year for the equivalent of a Masters degree in Biodiversity, Conservation & Management. The program is international in scope and multidisciplinary in nature. I will take courses in science, politics, economics and more. Eventually, I will complete a research project. I am incredibly excited, I've spent almost two years fixated on making this program happen and here I am.

It's certainly been an interesting year and often a struggle with the whole rooting, uprooting, disappearing act I've been pulling. I do look forward to the time I roll around the same bed for more than 5 months. I miss my family, my home, my friends, picking apples, carving pumpkins, watching patriots games, and making incredible fun out of the mundane. But really, nows not the time for this took to settle down *pushes her heel on the gas*. There's still wandering times to be had, eyebrow raising scenes to witness across international borders, cultures and places and weird looking animals to explore and investigate and a world to save.

So, for now, I'll keep rambling on, a midnight rider, a modern day drifter, a rolling stone, whatever the soundtrack the idea is the same and for now, that's my tune.

PS. This adorable old lady just popped by and  said 'How on earth did you manage getting a rocker here into the airport!' She thought I brought it here "I've seen people with bikes so I figured 'Why not a Rocker!'" And isn't it just sweet of Logan to put my flight "a cheaper but more pain-in-the-ass layover through Iceland before making it to Heathrow in England" right next to a Virgin direct flight to Heathrow. Isn't it all about the journey anyway (and plus I can tell people I've been to Iceland).