:: WARNING- THIS BLOG IS EXTRAORDINARILY SENTIMENTAL. I AM EXTRAORDINARILY SENTIMENTAL. GET OVER IT. ::



Over.


This word replayed in my mind for a solid 48 hours when my semester at Harlaxton ended. I probably should have written this blog that night to fully capture the disaster of emotions that I was feeling on the night of April 21st. Harlaxton had ended. It was over. Gone. There would be no more refectory meals, no more late night walks around the manor. No more roommate abuse week or conversations debating the superiority of Green and Taylor. No more Dr. Kingsley. No more ordering Pizza King or Top Chef. No more Morrison's or ASDA. No more great hall, long gallery, gold room, common room, drawing room, morning room, Pearson Room, Schroeder lounge, carriage house, or SDO. Most importantly, no more room 514. :( Sitting in the SDO at 3:30 am, I couldn't believe that I was about to leave Harlaxton for good. After all, just 18 hours before, I had been sitting amongst my friends suffering through the last British Studies exam. It couldn't be over.



Could it?



Everyone was gone. The 2:00 pm shuttle to London had left. The 4:30 pm shuttle to London had left. The 2:30 am Italy trip had left. I stood on the steps of the school and watched busloads of my new friends pull away from me. The few people remained at school were sleeping, and I was left to wander around the manor by myself. I couldn't possibly go back up to 514- only emptiness awaited me there: empty closets, empty drawers, empty shelves, empty beds. So I wandered. I went to the Great Hall and laid under the chandelier, where Amber and I had laid and talked just a few hours before. I went to the vending machine and had one last fight with it before caving in and going up to the 500s to pick up the last of my stuff. After grabbing my backpack and turning off the lights in my room for one last time (and crying even harder upon doing this, as I had already been crying since the Italy trip left), I sat on the window seat on the landing of the 500s and watched the sunrise on Harlaxton- my new home. I walked down the lift staircase for the last time. While I still had my fob, I walked out to the gates and took pictures of Harlaxton as the sun was coming up behind it- my last pictures of my beautiful school. As I turned around to look don the drive, I saw my cab coming up it and a fresh wave of tears broke over me. I dragged myself back inside to turn my keys over to security and complete the checkout process and literally could not get out the words, "I need to check out". I just handed him my keys and my form and turned around to walk away. My taxi driver put my backpack in the trunk and took the now familiar drive away from the school, and for the first time it truly hit me that this might be the last time I ever see Harlaxton. I turned in my seat and watched it slowly disappear from view. I will never forget that sight- Harlaxton through the dirty rear window of the cab. When I couldn't see it anymore I turned around and resolved to stop crying. That was until we were close to the train station and my driver said "Well, I guess this is the last time you'll be on this road then, isn't it?". Thanks cab driver. Because of you I remained unable to stop crying until halfway to London. I sat at a table by myself in the coffee shop at the station as the work crowd filed in and out for their morning mochas and newspapers. The poor man I sat next to on the train had to help me lift my backpack into the overhead compartment because I was physically incapable of lifting it- not because it was too heavy, but because I was too distraught. Exhaustion and depression overwhelmed me, but sleep wouldn't come. I had been crying for 5 straight hours when I finally stopped. My eyelids looked at least three times their normal size, and four shades of red darker. I could barely open them for swollenness. I had made myself nauseous from crying so hard and for so long. I was physically ill as a direct result of the pain associated with leaving Harlaxton.

So now that I'm home, when people ask me how it was… that is how it was. Read about the emotions I felt when I had to leave. That is how much I LOVED Harlaxton. And that is love. A physical pain associated with the absence of something you love. I never knew Harlaxton would affect me like that. But it certainly did. Now I leave you with a quote from North and South (admittedly, I did not read this during the semester even though I was supposed to. I am currently reading it- I decided to start when I got home).

"Her mind and body ached now with the recollection of all she had done and said within the last forty-eight hours. The farewells so hurriedly taken, amongst all the other goodbyes, of those she had lived with so long, oppressed her now with a sad regret for the times that were no more; it did not signify what those times had been, they were gone, never to return. Margaret's heart felt more heavy than she could ever have thought it possible in going to her own dear home, the place and the life she had longed for-- at that time of all times for yearnings and longing, lost before the sharp senses lose their outlines in sleep."

I never knew that Harlaxton would mean so much, and I certainly didn't know that North and South could parallel so directly to my life.

There is hope, however. Just because Harlaxton is over does not mean that my life is over. I'm still young! I have my whole life ahead of me. The book goes on to say, "She took her mind away with a wrench from the recollection of the past to the bright serene contemplation of the hopeful future. Her eyes began to see, not visions of what had been, but the sight actually before her." I'm excited about that sight before me. Harlaxton opened up so many doors for me, and for that I am truly grateful.