Our time is coming to an end, and sadly I don’t know when I’ll see you again.
It’s been a wild ride, hasn’t it? I came to you on a cold Sunday in January, when your days were short and depressing, but I loved you anyways.
I waited almost two years to finally meet you. Little freshman college me stumbled upon a travel blog and realized that wow travelling is an actual option. Regular people do it! Whenever I felt suffocated during the dark days of sophomore year, I knew I had to hold on so I could get to you.
On our first day together I cried. Not because I missed my family, but because I was sleep deprived from my IcelandAir flight and couldn’t find my power converter. (I eventually found it packed away in one of my Bean Boots, but sadly not before I emailed the airline accusing them of confiscating it. Not my best moment.)
I’m leaving you on another Sunday with the sunrise. Your sun comes really early and leaves really late now. I appreciate it. When we first met it would be gone by 3:30pm. Tonight I sat with friends at the top of Kelvingrove Park, leaving at 10:30pm with a little bit of light still left. I could get used to that.
But I don’t have the time to get used to it. My lease ends next week and summer is upon us. I’m off to the eastern end of Europe, because even though I’ve been saving almost every penny for years I’m still a college student on a limited budget and I’ve been told it’s cheaper out there. I’ll come back to you someday, Glasgow, when I have a bit more money to do the things I couldn’t do this time around.
You were good to me. You let me walk into your free museums whenever I wanted to learn something or to just look at art for a bit to clear my head. You let me learn with teachers who have their own Wikipedia page (!!!!). You helped me be unafraid of travelling to France, Spain, Portugal, and Ireland on my own, since I knew I had you waiting for me at home. You helped me realize what I want in a friend group and what kind of person I want to be, even if I can’t seem to reach her just yet.
Funnily enough, my time with you has lasted exactly just as long as my two past relationships. Five months. But unlike those, you and I aren’t ending on a bad note. (And I actually love you, which I can’t say about those other two.)
I think it’s good to end things on a good note, though. Bittersweet. My last associations of you will be filled with sunshine and sunsets and lots and lots of fish and chips. That’s all a girl can really want from life, right?
You’re the only place outside of Virginia that I can comfortably call home.
I don’t know what else to say besides: thank you, I love you, and I’ll miss you.