"Yeh give up a few t'ings... chasin' a dream..."
John Silver in Disney's Treasure Planet is a cartoon cyborg created to match Robert Louis Steven's bad guy yet he speaks words of wisdom that can only be fully understood at the crossroads where I now stand. I knew life was full of hard choices and things had to be given up. I never understood that life was full of hard choices and things had to be given up.
I don't want to just visit England. I want to live there. I want to be a student, earn a degree, teach, live, settle down, eat, sleep, and maybe even die there. I want this place that is so far away from what I know and what I'm used to. I want a land that is so much more incredibly diverse and has so many other cultures around it. It's not a perfect place, I know that. It has discrimination and violence. It has all the issues America has, but it's... different. It's new. And I want to explore it. But it comes at a terrible cost.
I love my dog. Marshmellow has been a lifeline for me, something I know will be happy to see me no matter my mood or how angry I get; she always has a doggy grin and a full body wag for me. I miss her so much, and I'm only a few states away from her. If I go down this road to England, there is a good chance I will never see her again. She's getting old. It's showing in her joints and the white around her nose. When Henry died, I swore I would never get attatched to another dog, mostly because I knew I was the reason Henry had died, but also because the pain from losing Henry was more than I knew how to handle. When Sam had to be put down, it was the same thing. We already had Marshmellow at that point, but it was different. Then both of my grandfathers died, and there were days where all I could do was wrap my arms around that massive pile of brown flub and hold on. She used to do this thing where she would nuzzle her head against my neck when I hugged her, like a return hug. She hasn't done it in a while, but I haven't been as broken as I was then. I think, if I saw her now, she would nuzzle me again.
The cost of England: my best friend.
I have never felt like I had that place in my life that was "home." I lived in St. Louis for such a short period of my life, and for so many years when I wasn't able to hold memories, that although I deeply love the city and have a pride in it's accomplishments, it wasn't a place that I really missed when I was gone. I missed my friends, and the people I knew, but I didn't know how to miss a place itself. Owensville I hated; always have, and probably always will. The children are unaccepting of newcomers, and taunted those of use who moved into the school system. I fought back, and made a few friends, some that I still occasionally talk with, but not really anything that will last forever. I had three different houses in that town, and none of them was a place that when I lived there, it was missed and eagerly greeted when I returned. Even with selling the Mt. Sterling house, I miss the memories of that place, not the house itself. I wanted Jacob to have it. I never wanted it. Then I moved to Hannibal. It was perfect; not to big so that I felt suffocated or unable to handle the traffic, but not so small that I was bored or felt constantly observed. It is on the river front, giving me water access. It has a train that runs through the town. The people are warm and will smile at you in the street while still walking, a way of saying "I see you, and hello, but I want to stay in my own world like you want to stay in yours." There aren't many awkward conversations between people you want to avoid. It has variety in it's food, although not many sit down places. But that's what Quincy is for. 20 minutes of drive time to get somewhere is actually pretty decent when you're used to driving an hour to get anywhere. It has a baseball team, though I never got to watch them play. I know what it means to miss a place now; I cried for an hour last night thinking about Hannibal.
The cost of England: my home.
Jacob is turning 13 in November. I've waited for this birthday since he was little, though I never realized how much we would have in common. After I got over the disappointment of having a brother, I was excited as I thought about having a companion who would want to see the car movies, the rough and tumlble beat 'em ups, the explosive noises, and stupid humor ones. Finally having someone to play video games with and yell at the sports teams with. We've done stuff like that before, but it's when they get older and start understanding more that things change. He'll be driving soon, and that's a little unnerving. I hope he isn't like me. I drive faster than I probably should sometimes and don't always pay the best attention to things. He starts 7th grade this fall. High school isn't so far away anymore. Girls, cars, sports, friends, homework, all those things will come first and big sister will be pushed aside. That's ok, though. I wasn't exactly the best sister he could have, and should have, had. As you sow, that you'll reap, and all.
The cost of England: my little brother.
I could talk about how I would lose my mom through this, but it's a different thing. I still talk to her so often it doesn't make a difference to me how far apart we are; she's still there in the times I need her and still nagging when I'm about to punch something. Even with 3,500 miles and six hours difference, I know that won't really change that much. My phone will just be quieter, and that's when things will start to be weird. I could talk about how my friends would drift away, but it's the same thing: we have the internet now. Communication is so much easier to access. The ones that matter will keep in touch, and the ones that don't, well, it's better off that way anyway. I'll miss having my mom easily available to call or make pancakes for me, and my friends for BWW's nights or movie dates, but there are still ways to do even those small things. Setting up a Skype date and pressing start at the same time. Making pancakes at midnight so I can be "eating" them with my mom at six pm her time. But Marshmellow won't be there to snuggle or rough house with. Hannibal won't be there to escape within. Jacob won't be there to watch the latest Marvel movie an discuss Loki feels.
The cost of England: half of my heart.
It's a cost I'm not sure I'm ready to pay. I have a few months to figure that out, but I know if I don't do this now, I never will and I will always wonder. I'm still learning who I am and trying to figure that out here is like trying to decide what kind of ice cream to try in a brand new store you've never been to visit. It's overwhelming. And yet, it's intoxicating. I'm making a stand for things I've always or never thought about, but in new ways with new people and I can finally voice my reasons and not robotically spit out what I've been taught for years. And if learning who I am means giving up half my life, then cry God for Harry, England and St. George!
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