The last night

To know when you are about to go for good, just check your pockets. If you have an empty keyring and a one-way ticket, you are moving on.

I'm moving on, but also moving back. And I'm also staying, and not going anywhere, and I will be back soon. It's all very confusing. My keyring is still heavy; as I haven't finished here, I can't get that weight out of my pocket yet. I'm sure this unfinished t***** is messing up my mind and it will be difficult to start new things before having properly finished the old ones.

I still remember how I felt when moving to Cambridge. I had returned all keys (some of which were opening pretty impressive doors), so that the only one I had left was the one to my parent's house. The anchor, the place I will always call home, the place where I can always return. It was a strange, somewhat scary feeling. I knew what I was leaving behind, but wasn't too sure what to expect from the new life that was ahead of me. But I knew it would be good, and I was sure it was the right move to make.

Again, I know this is the right thing to do now, and I know it's going to be good. There will be new keys to fill the ring, and new tickets will be written, the to:s and from:s just change. And there will be another one-way ticket one day. Still, it feels strange, now that it is the last night. Not at all like I imagined it. Because for some reason I never did.

(Pic: Jeff Lyons: Back and Forth, acrylic on canvas)