itten in a long long long time. So I think what I need to do is rewind a little bit and talk about Oxford.Part of me wishes I had kept a record of everything, everyday that I had there...if only because I wish I could share it more fully with someone else.
I'm at a loss for how to even begin to capture the experience and even now, almost 3 months after I've come back to the good ole U.S.A., I find myself still hoping to hear the sounds from downstairs of my Crick family-Hannah and Irene screaming that it's snowing AGAIN, or someone listening to crazy loud music that is shortly followed by the thumping of feet indicative a dance party (and then I wouldn't be a mere listener after that, of couse, Kitchen dance-parties are a must). I miss Daniel's crazy imaginative stories that involve becoming a king of some tribe in Alaska. And going downstairs early in the morning to find Carl and Jay in the kitchen debating some topic that is WAY over my head (although I tried to not let them know HOW much over my head they actually were, I'm pretty sure they knew the whole time).
I miss Ginny's sincerity. And I miss the Northstar, Nick, softly strumming his guitar in the evenings. And the tinkerbelle-esq Amy with her hot-pink hat. And the expression Shane was always donning that made him look like a philosopher. And I miss British Sam who took care of us, and how he would shake his fists up at the sky and yell "NOOO!!" (in a very English sort of way). And I miss reading Harry Potter in the evening with a bunch of random tea cups and matching plaid green blankets. I miss the random bursting out into song ( "California Dreamin" usually) with twenty other people.
And Christine with her whirl of bright colors and suggested reads by Neil Gaiman.
And Grant who always gives great hugs.
And Emily in the common room with her tea and Nutella toast, absorbed in a good book.
I miss my roomates, both so utterly sure of who they are, and both actively making a way to make their mark on the world. There's Kate, who is kind of this spunky, little indie girl from North Carolina. She's wicked smart but also so unbelievably kind and soothing to be around. There was also Laura, the red-headed New Englander; brilliant and confident and fierce and as true a friend as you could ever hope to find. Both of these girls are powerful forces in the world, and (though they may not know it) they are going to do great things. I think it was really good for me to live with them, besides just being major fun.
That's just some of the people; there are so many others that meant so much.
I also miss slipping out the door in the afternoon all by myself, off to explore some path that I've never been down before. Totally free and given over to the world I've spent the last ten years dreaming about. I miss constantly finding out it's actually better than I ever dreamed.
I miss the old cobblestone streets and the black drains, dripping with fresh rain.
I miss the way the warm light streams out from the old glass of a little pub out into the cold. And cutting through the park to the library-seeing spring come there, bringing unfamiliar flowers to the gardens. And the skyline. I miss the constant "I can't believe I'm really here, is this really happening?!?!?!". But smiling all the while, because the fact that I was really and truly there was undeniable.
I miss the "reading culture,"how there are so many bookstores in the main part of town. And I miss Port Meadow. And I miss lying out in the garden on a blanket on sunny days, listening to the birds and smelling good smells from the kitchen and reading. I miss the antiquity. And the tutorials. Heck, I even miss the papers.
When I first got there, riding on my first public bus ever, fresh snow had just fallen over the city. The sun was setting and there was an orange-golden gleam on everything. The students walking on the streets reminded me of pictures I'd summoned up on Google: idealized archetypes made flesh, stumbling on the icy sidewalks and laughing at one another.
Old saints and gargoyles looked down on me from up above and all around. I felt like I'd fallen into some kind of snow-globe world, it was so perfect and dreamy. And then I got out, and there was just the crunch of my boots on the snow, and my too-heavy suitcase rolling along unsteadily behind me, and my quest to find my first taxi.
Looking at that huge and beautiful old house on Crick road came next, and trying to imagine how it would be home for the next several months, but having no idea that it REALLY would be. Being greeted by a crazy man with a beard who flung open the door and said "HEYYYYY!!!!!!!!!!!!" with his arms stretched out (I thought he must be on staff but later I learned he was Carl) and then there were people, people everywhere. There was also pasta, which I ate while some guy that sat beside me asked me "What kind of minds do you like to study?" (to which I made a terrible muttering, blundering response. A few months later, when I understood that he was Jay, and he understood that I was Katie, he asked me again). My first jet-lag set in, and the faces and words that happened afterwards are now jumbled in my brain. But I remember the feeling of unfamiliarity, of intimidation, of wondering if I would feel pressured to pretend to be someone I wasn't, excited to explore this new world, but too tired to do much but climb to my bunk and pass out.
The moment when I realized that I WOULD NOT even have to worry about pretending to be someone I wasn't happened the very next day. And after that, something else happened. Little by little, the unknown faces became friends, and then they became family. And then one day, I was one of those iconic Oxford students on the sidewalk, laughing with friends, carrying books, knowing where I was going.
I have to go soon, there are some other things to be said about Oxford by and by, but for now, I just wanted to sum up a little.
By the way, with all of this "missing things" business... I don't mean for it to be a sad thing-because it's not.
I mean, really? I'm a pretty happy girl. :-)
I DO feel a little wistful sometimes, a little mournful. Because I don't know if I'll ever go back to this place that I'm so in love with , and I do know that I'll never have the same experience again-but people can't ever do that, can they?
I was in love with it all. I am still in love with it. And it's been a process, a very changing sort of love. The fact that I miss the place and the people so much is one of the marks that goes with the change. I would hate for that longing, the slight ache, to be suddenly gone.
I feel that way when I'm away from Dane-sometimes I miss him so much it hurts, but I wouldn't trade the missing him for not missing him, because acknoledging the abscence of what we love reminds us of what it means to us, of what light those things bring us.
Missing Dane, or my family, or my good friends? It's a part of loving those people. I'm grateful. And so, missing Oxford?
I'm grateful for that too.
-Shalom. :-)
