The following post was written by Global Gap Year Fellow, Rhenna Hatton.
From my favorite song:
If we were vampires and death was a joke
We’d go out on the sidewalk and smoke
And laugh at all the lovers and their plans
I wouldn’t feel the need to hold your hand
Maybe time running out is a gift
I’ll work hard ’til the end of my shift
And give you every second I can find
And hope it isn’t me who’s left behind
I’ve referenced this song before in my application to GGYF. I mentioned that “maybe time running out is a gift”, but I never thought I would be in a place to be living out the ruminations of a stressed sophomore during finals week, hoping that spending so much time on this application wouldn’t be a waste. But now that I’m here, I’ve been able to see just how accurate this feels. You’re so markedly aware of every moment, each hour, each minute you’re spending doing something different. Even the things that are the same; cooking, walking, making friends, feel acutely more purposeful.
Someone important to me described time, when they were traveling, as ‘dense.’ Not as fast or slow because sometimes time feels infinitely fast, months at a time passing in the blink of an eye, but at the same time, incalculably slow, as each moment feels so big and stretched. But I think that’s what this time is for: density.
I’ve been abroad for almost two months now and each moment has felt illimitably dense. I’ve met friends, said goodbye to friends, I’ve traveled to four different countries, yet made one feel like home. I was on a walk the other day after work, it was about 32 degrees, I was wearing my scarf, and all of the trees were orange and yellow. I was listening to music and discovering the city. I found these old cathedral ruins at the top of a hill with a park around them and when I was at the top of this hill, I had a wonderful view of the city. That moment seemed to stretch on forever; the crunch of leaves beneath my feet, the crisp air biting at my nose. But I think that’s the point of everything. To have these moments that stretch, these moments that make you realize how time is a gift, and you’ve been so lucky to be present for it all.
While time is more concentrated here, the transience of everything is also something I’m working to learn better. People, time, and moments all seem to drift in and out without structure. One moment I’m cooking dinner with my Dutch friend and the next I’m saying goodbye to him in the streets of Riga, just hoping one day I’ll be able to find him again. It’s very melancholic to be saying goodbye all the time, yet I find myself cherishing the short instances my time overlaps with others nevertheless. I’ll take a second here to reminisce on some of my favorite, but hardest goodbyes I’ve had so far: goodbye gijs for being my first and greatest friend here, goodbye hannes for reminding me how to dance, goodbye max for being the best people connector I’ve ever met, goodbye guste for taking care of me when I was sick, and soon I’ll have to say goodbye to sasha and jacinta for reminding me why sleepovers when I was younger felt so magical.
I’m coming to terms slowly with my goodbyes although it’s still so difficult every time. I’m just working to remember something someone told me one night here: that we’re the average of every person, moment, interaction, and activity we do, so we’re all the luckier to surround ourselves with the richness of life. And there’s no better time to start, than right now.