For some people, long flight becomes something scary and exhausting. Just a day before my departure to England, one of my bosses asked me about the flight. When she found out that I need to take 18-hours flight, she was really shocked. For her, her upcoming six-hour flight to Japan is already an energy consuming one. She couldn’t bear sitting in the plane for that amount of time, let alone spending almost a day on sky.
Surprisingly, I didn’t really see that duration as a torture to get through. Quoting the brilliant Sarah Brightman, “The journey home, is never too long. Your heart arrives before the train.” It was exactly what happened to me, I felt like coming home to the place where I belong. It was the moment when I recalled what I promised to myself a couple of months ago, “I am leaving half of myself in Europe, so I have a reason to come back!”
Apparently, that is really the case. Since I got back from Cambridge to Indonesia, I hadn’t been myself. Stupid mistakes had already been a part of my life. Not even any relaxation could bring me back to my perfect state, not teaching, not gaming, not even reading. To further complicate thing, something DID bother me in the workplace, hindering me to reach my usual perfection. Sigh! This graduation became a blessing in disguise, as it provided me a reason to take a break.
Right after the long (and supposedly exhausting) flight, my brother and I finally stepped into Heathrow Terminal 4. The second we boarded the London underground, my brain shifted to the British mode. I still remember all the stations we had to pass, all the underground lines. Dang, I even still have 3 quid in my oyster card! London King’s Cross marked my homecoming. It served as my gateway back home, my home. It turned out that I still remembered all the corners of that station. Blindfold me, and I could still find my way to platform 9. The only difference there was just the scaffoldings and the moving of platform 9 ¾ to different location. (Which is silly, since it deviates from the original story)
Whilst my brother busy taking pictures of the meadows along the way to Cambridge, I recited the name of the stations. Welwyn, Letchwort, Hitchin, and Royston were still in my head, serving as the precious memento of my stay. It was not until I saw Cambridge University Press (and the ‘Home of Anglia Ruskin University’) that I became so emotional. My chest became so tight that it almost exploded. It’s my home, I’m home already!! The place where I hit the restart button for my life was in front of my nose. ‘Twas the place that changed me in just a year time.
Nothing had drastically changed since my last stay there. I still remember all the ways, all the streets, all the cheap restaurant, the coffee shops, and all the shortcuts. I could go around the city with the eyes closed and still find my way. So, this is what homecoming feels like……..
