What's Being Left Behind

This entry will be much shorter than I want it to be. Following the trend of my overall move-out experience, this reflection will be shorter, less sentimental, more rushed, and generally more unconventional than I imagined it would be.

This blog is a medium for me to share my experiences in Toronto during my Fulbright year. However, in my introductory post, I want to provide context for what's to come with what's being left behind.

I'm currently sitting on the floor of the SeaTac Airport, waiting in line at my gate. Two days ago, I awoke at 7:00 AM in Bellingham after four hours of sleep with my mind shrouded as it could only be after the last night in one's "college town". Two hours later, I hit the road in a comically-packed 2002 Kia hatchback an hour after I had planned to leave. I always expected my last departure from Bellingham to be teary, sentimental, and ponderous. The truth is, it felt casual, I still do not feel as though I left.  I expected to cry during my goodbyes, but I never did.

During my final week in Bellingham, I was surrounded by my closest friends, some who I have known for my entire time at Western Washington University. We laughed, we stayed up late, and we reminisced. I never considered Bellingham merely my college town, and I never referred to Republic, where I grew up, or Yakima, where my parents have lived for the last four years, as home. Before a holiday break, I would tell others that I was seeing my parents for the holidays.

Bellingham hurts to leave behind because I became myself during my time there. Bellingham was my home, and Western was my identity. It is difficult to fully explain what it is like to grow up in a true small town to those who have never experienced it: to have your identity prescribed to you at birth, to carry the legacy of seven siblings on your shoulders when a teacher or doctor hears your last name.

Coming to college at Western was the first time I had the opportunity to define myself on my own terms. Stepping foot on Western's campus three years and eleven months ago was my introduction to life as an individual. Over the course of 59 months, I built a life as a Western student, a Bellinghamster, an RA, a tutor, an Honors student, a guy at the bar who plays darts even when he doesn't order a drink. I began to feel comfortable in those roles, and took for granted (even feared) the familiarity that came with living in a "college town".

So I'm leaving it behind. I'm choosing not to come back to Washington for my whole Fulbright year, even for holidays. I want to experience Toronto, experience Canada and the U of T in the best way that I can. I adore the people I met, and especially those whom I've seen in my last week. I hope to never take them for granted. Maybe they'll even give me the opportunity to cry.