By Page Bennett
In the summer of 2007, I left my hometown to move across the world and start a career in Muscat, Oman. I was a young, bright-eyed idealist excited about the adventures I knew were ahead of me. But the evening before I was to leave, I felt an overwhelming heaviness in my heart for those I was saying goodbye to. As I packed my bags (and attempted to pack my life into four suitcases), it felt like an out of body experience. These are my thoughts as I processed what it meant to leave the life you've known for a world beyond.
The light passed under the door, creating an air of uncertainty. "What is it about the certainty of being uncertain, the ominous feeling of closed doors?" she thought. Her mother’s voice, strained and soften by the solid piece of oak in front of her. "She is not without her faults." The voice drifted in and out, fragments of a conversation she tried to piece together. "A long day….how will we....I don't know if I can."
And then, the voice became louder, turing fragments into clear sentences. "She is not without her faults. It is wrong of us to forget."
She breathed in, a breath meant to calm but producing the opposite effect. Anxiousness, taking root, grew up into her throat. "I am a million fallen things," she thought. She whispered her new mantra.
At that moment, a tiny porcelain figurine of girl holding a basket of posies caught the light of her bedside table. A gold necklace around the figurine caused a spectrum of color. That tiny detail and the history that came with the figurine made her heart hurt. And oh, it hurt.
"I am a million fallen things." Her mantra continued. She rarely allowed herself to feel the impact of her decisions - the enormity of events still yet to take place. But during this night, with the hushed, strained voices and nostalgic keepsakes, she felt the weight come down upon her.
The decisions she made would create heartbreak. They were creating heartbreak.
And yet, she could not take a step back. This was her path. And oh, her heart hurt.