the ending of things and beginning of things

It’s the middle of week four of the Bamburgh Research Project.  We have two weeks left in the season.

Last week I was back in Edinburgh for bittersweet farewells and the endings.

I left Bamburgh last Thursday evening and spent Friday running errands to prepare for the coming week.

Ben arrived late from London (He’s currently selling his soul to the corporate engine and getting hit by cars in exchange) on Friday night.  His train was delayed.  Personally, I think it was karma for leaving disgusting fermented lemons in the Roseneath fridge.  I waited for him at Waverly listening to three drunk Glaswegians singing ‘A Thousand Miles’ by Vanessa Carlton on the communal piano.  It was wholesome.

The next morning my parents and Crosby arrived into Edinburgh after flying from America.  Ben, Alven, and I went for an early coffee and then met up with them for brunch and then later an early dinner.  After dinner, we three and Crosby went to see ‘Toy Story 4.’  We all cried.

The next day we three were joined by Gregor and Sophie at Cold Town House, a lil microbrewery with a roof terrace overlooking the castle in the Grassmarket.  We stayed all afternoon in the sweet, sweet Edinburgh sun.

Ben left for a dinner and Alven, Gregor, and I returned to Roseneath to make our own.  I met back up with Sam and Pippa and Ben for a pub quiz.  Then around 10pm it was time to walk Ben to the bus station for his bus back to London because once again he’s sold his soul to the corporate engineering world and needed to be in the London office for bright and sunny Monday morning.

It’s really, really hard watching a bus pull away and not knowing when you’ll see that human again.

It’s really, really hard hearing the bells of St Giles and knowing with each chime that human is further and further away.

It was the first goodbye of many to come and maybe in some place in my mind I thought I was ready.  As it turned out, I wasn’t anywhere close.

Monday, I ugly cried in my kitchen and Alven took photos.

Tuesday, on the second of July, I walked across the stage in McEwan Hall and got wacked on the head by the hat made from John-Knox’s-but-also-not-John-Knox’s-pants-which-did/didn’t-get-sent-into-space (it’s a long story).  I was awarded a Masters of Arts with Honours in History and Archaeology, First Class.  I took my photos in the Old College Quad.

And that was four years.

Taking the photos, I looked up to the Golden Boy on the roof of Old College and thought about seeing it for the first time back in 2015.

After graduation, Mom and Dad and Crosby and I went to Sandy Bells to wait for our dinner reservation.  I messed up the timings and booked a much later reservation than I thought.  We ate at the Witchery by the Castle and once again I’m reminded exactly how I want my future official dwelling to look.

Wednesday, I took the family to Stirling to see the Castle.  On all accounts, I believe they enjoyed it.  I went to Stirling with Gregor and our Canadian exchange student Sarah in first year so it was nice to return.  I also took them to Gregor’s friend’s coffee shop.

Thursday was the Fourth of July.  It was my third Fourth of July outside of America.  Truthfully, I found it hard to celebrate this year when the quote American Dream un-quote is being denied to so many.  When children are being separated from their parents and held in cages with no beds or toothbrushes or soap.  When women are denied autonomy over their own bodies.  When teenagers fear for their lives while they are trying to get an education.  But sure, let’s parade tanks, force people to work instead of giving them their day off, and brag about the Continental Army ‘taking the airports.’

Anyway, I also got two really pretty tattoos. One is a Kansas sunflower – a symbol of loyalty and the flower of the American Suffragettes.  The other is a Scottish thistle – a symbol of defiance and memory.  Both are actually from the same plant family and are also both noxious weeds!  Tattoos have become a cathartic release for me.  I’ll carry them forever as reminders and memories of where I came from, where I went, and where I’ll go next.  Tat me up!!111!!!

That evening Tuva and Erling and Alven and Crosby and I went to see the new Spider-Man film.  Highly rated, Zendaya wears a Joan of Arc T-shirt.

Friday was Crosby’s 20th birthday.  Yikes.  Mom and Dad took her shopping and I ran a few errands.  I met up with Sophie for a quick cup of coffee and she gave me the loveliest card which I cried reading on the train.

That evening, Roseneath went to the Argyle for one last official flat pub outing.  Gregor went to sleep early as he was still recovering from celebrating his own graduation. Tuva and Erling and Alven and I stayed up late into the night drinking whisky and crying in the kitchen.

Saturday morning I woke up early and packed the rest of the shit I needed to take back to Bamburgh.  Mom and Dad came by Roseneath to help me carry my stuff as I can’t put a lot of stress on my shoulder just yet with the fresh tats.

And that’s when I said goodbye to my sweet, darling Norwegians.  I’m so glad that I met them on a mountain in the Lake District four years ago.  All my love you two.

By now, they are safely back in Oslo.  Gregor is still in the flat and will be there when I return in late July.  But, Roseneath as we knew it with Tuva and Erling and Gregor and Kennedy has come to an end.

It won’t be forever, but I know the separation of Roseneath will probably last far too long.  However, I do know this, when we do see each other again, wherever in the world it will be – it will be as if we never parted.  As I’ve learned, global friendships are some of the hardest to keep.  But, if you can keep them, they prove to be the most rewarding.  Having friends across countries and over oceans makes the world just a bit smaller and that much more wonderful.

But, goodbyes are fucking hard.  I don’t think they will ever get easier.

And so, I returned to Bamburgh Castle and my family toured the site.  We ate lunch together and I worked for the rest of the day.  After a week off, I need to reorganize some stuff and get back into the workflow.

I’ve cycled to and from the castle when it hasn’t rained to think.

So much has ended.  So much is beginning anew.  I’d be lying if I said I haven’t cried at least once per day this past week.  But, I wouldn’t trade these past four years.  I will carry my memories of my friends in Edinburgh forever.

Will update more later.