Moving Forward

“I’m just trying to figure out how to function in this chaos.”

“So I’ve heard. It’s a big change, but you’ll be fine. You always have bee–.”

My brother’s voice cuts off as my phone dies. Sometimes I wonder if these phone calls bother him—I mean I’ve practically called him every day since I arrived in the city. I ruffle through the stack of papers on the dorm room desk and grab the power bank I’ve relied on for the past two weeks. Dead. In all the chaos of packing my suitcases, I had completely forgotten that the outlets in the UK were a completely different shape. A lot of things slipped my mind while packing—I also had no water bottle. Being left with no choice, I put on my coat, walk down the old staircase outside my door, and step outside—into the pouring rain.

Just four months earlier I had gotten the email. It was raining the same way that day. I tensely perched at the dining room table listening to the mechanical ticking of the clock on the wall and watching my empty inbox. 6:58. Dishes rattled in the kitchen and the family dog ran past the table enthusiastically searching for food. 6:59. A buzzsaw roared just outside the window as the neighbor started yet another noisy home improvement project. 6:59. Time seemed to slow down to a crawl just to torture me, and at a point, I thought it might have halted altogether. 6:59.

On her way past, my mom reached over and shut my laptop.

“Move your things, I have to set the table.”

She had no idea. I had been talking about this day for weeks, months even. 7:00. Both of my parents had forgotten. I didn’t say a word.

I walked the dog early that night. It was getting dark, and a cool yet comforting breeze was in the mid-December air. My phone buzzed in my pocket. A few seconds passed, and it buzzed again—it was my brother.

“Hey! Did you get in? I thought I would have heard from you by now.”
I sighed and a quiet mumble escaped, “Yeah I got in.”

I had dreamed of attending the University of Edinburgh since I was old enough to pronounce the city name—mesmerized by the cobblestone streets and the pastel buildings that could have come right out of a children’s book. My parents eventually remembered the news I was supposed to bear that night—but despite agreeing to let me attend if I got in, their hesitancy rose the minute that the possibility became reality. They had no reason to be worried, and no way to change my mind. This was my dream, and I was going to make it.

The rain seems to be getting harder, practically tearing holes in my umbrella as I step out onto the wet cobblestone streets—at least I remembered an umbrella. My chest tightens with worry, and now being soaked through to the bone, I shyly duck into the first convenience store-looking establishment I see—complete with flashing neon signs and posters boasting the city’s ‘finest currency conversion.’ The brightly lit room seems to spin as the whirlwind of colored packaging and unfamiliar pricing drains what feels like the last drop of confidence from my (still) jetlagged soul. What if my parents were right? What if this was all too much?

As I spastically round the aisle, unsure of what I even came in for, I run headfirst into something…someone.

“Girl, you look how I feel,” says the woman I had just full-on walked into. She looks about my age and despite her wisecracking demeanor, seems just as unsure as I do. It turns out she is also a student from the U.S., and that feeling lost is anything but a unique experience. We laugh; how does one function in all of this chaos? Maybe my parents had a point, but maybe my brother had a better one. Maybe everything is going to be alright after all.