Short Story: Leaving.

The past few months were lived in preparation and expectation for today.  Today would begin the next four months of her life. Trying to find sufficient places for the few remaining necessities, Sarah Williams found her usual methodic packing style giving way to the demands of space. Her bright red suitcases just wouldn’t fit much more.

All summer her plans had revolved around this internship, an overseas trip in Rome, Italy. She needed the experience for school, and deciding to travel so far and see new things was exciting. All the months of saving money were about to allow her the opportunity to visit different places, adventures she would take when she wasn’t working. But now it was actually about to happen. “Am I really ready for this?”

All different types of thoughts filled her mind as her excited anticipation was interrupted by reality. She didn’t know anyone in Rome. “I really do want to do this . . . to leave home and live in a foreign country with people that speak a different language. Right?” Certainly Rome would be quite different than her small home town just outside of Colombus, Ohio. She didn’t know what her new temporary home would be like, who her roommates would be, or how she would get around. “At least the food should be good. I better not come back fat!” She didn’t know what kind of work she would be doing or who she would be working with.

Brushing her golden blonde hair over her sun-kissed shoulders, Sarah looked in her own mirror for the last time as she finished getting ready. Seeing her own light brown eyes looking back at her reminded her how mixed her emotions were right now. “I wonder if I’ll stick out as an American . . . ?” Based on her reading about Italy, she was expecting most of the people to be dark haired and olive toned. She wondered how the guys would react to her physical differences. But then again, “How different will I actually be? Is it going to be hard fitting in, feeling comfortable, in such a different place?” She had never been to Italy or anywhere else in Europe for that matter. She turned on her favorite upbeat music to distract herself for the moment.

Although this trip was Sarah’s decision, commitment, and responsibility, it somehow became a family affair. In the few weeks prior to her departure, everyone wanted to prepare Sarah in his or her own way, giving bits and pieces of what they thought to be valuable advice for a young traveler. However thorough and sensible she was, they couldn’t leave all the preparation to her alone. This experience was too new, too unfamiliar, too unpredictable. Her normal habits of planning and thinking didn’t seem to matter, though she assured her family she would be just fine.

Her dad had turned into a history buff, sharing all sorts of information about Rome that he could find in his spare moments at work. The Papacy had become his favorite topic of conversation. “We’re not even Catholic.” Obviously Rome is full of history, but her dad had taken it upon himself to make sure she knew enough about this city before she arrived. Her older brother seemed most concerned about the nightlife. He wanted her to have fun and experience the life of the Italians, whatever that meant. Her mom kept adding things to the packing list—swim suit, winter parka, vitamin C, an extra tube of toothpaste, note cards, you name it. “You never know what you’ll need!” Sarah was pretty sure she would be okay if she forgot something; but then again, what are mothers for? Even grandpa chimed in. He wasn’t thrilled about his only granddaughter taking off all alone. It didn’t matter that the company was well-reviewed by other students, parents, and universities or that they were well trained in introducing American students to the Italian city. She would need pepper spray and an array of maps, he said. He even bought her an international cell phone to use “in case of emergency . . . or when you really miss me.”

Focusing on the present again, Sarah felt prepared—at least on paper. Everything was checked off her list. She had to be ready. As her parents drove her to the airport, those moments of silence gave her a renewed excitement, a resolved composure.

Her mom was going to miss her cheerful laughter. Her dad was going to miss his golfing companion. Sarah was surprised when she didn’t find herself having to fight back tears as she said goodbye to her parents at the airport. “Shouldn’t I be crying right now? I always cry. I’m going to miss them . . . but I guess I’m ready for this.”

There was something about this short event we call “leaving” that made Sarah realize she needed to find her own courage. As much as her family wanted to prepare her, she knew it was up to her to embrace the coming months. What she appreciated most about their advice was that it showed her how much they care about her.

Though the flight was quite long and she knew no one on the plane, Sarah wasn’t lonely. She began seeing stories behind each face. Some were stories of natives returning home. “I wonder what it’s like to call Italy home . . . is that what it will be to me by the time I leave?” Others seemed to hold professional stories, men and women traveling on business. “What will I learn from working in Italy?” And still others reflected stories similar to hers—wonder, anticipation, interest.

Sarah’s story was just beginning. Her first sights of the Italian landscape from above made it very clear that she had so much to see. Her first step onto the airport tarmac in Italy was one of thousands that she would take while becoming acquainted with the historic city. She thought of her dad when she saw the Coliseum for the first time. She smiled when she found the extra toothpaste in her suitcase. She wished her brother were there to help her find the best local restaurant. “I think grandpa’s maps are actually going to come in handy . . .”