“Are you going to feed your doggy one last time?” My mum said to me. Suddenly my heart broke to look at the chocolate labrador staring up at me. I’m going to miss him like he’s a part of me. I stayed up until 3am just to savour every second that I sat with him asleep on my lap, watching his limbs twitch and smiling as he stirred and nuzzled into me until I gently soothed him back to sleep.
“You’re not going to see him for two years.” My mum had said a few weeks previously, assuming that I would live in my new accommodation for the rest of my degree, and making it clear that I had to stay there as much as possible because it’s so expensive we can’t afford to pay for an empty room. There were times last year where I missed my dog so much that I became a little broken. Detached from my furry emotional rock, I drift aimlessly, and eventually end up in troubled waters. I would come back to my family’s home just to be with my dog, just to see the pure joy he expressed at the sight of me, to cuddle him for hours as his tail refused to stop wagging. So I sat there last night, and I just held him. And I missed him already.
Beyond all of that though, there was excitement. I just want to go.
My mum and I spent the day together. We had a few arguments but they were minor and mainly involved her being super strict and stress and disciplining me like I was a child for teeny tiny things. We went to see the new Bridget Jones film, and then after a brief stop to buy food for dinner (and yet another mug for uni) she took me to get my toenails painted and stuff. That was nice.
My sister came round, she’s flying back to Dubai today so she said goodbye and stuff. She cried when she left her only child in our house. Kinda understandable. My nephew wasn’t phased.
My Fellow Third Wheel appeared at half eight. We sat in my kitchen and just had long, long chats until gone midnight. We started talking about going on holiday, and he suggested that we go together, at least two a year. We found the cheapest deals (like £299pp for a 7 night, 4 star stay in Santorini, with flights and airport transfers included). He’s coming to stay with me in London the weekend after next, and he says that when he’s there we should plan out all the places we want to go together and… book something. He isn’t scared to go away with me after what happened in Norfolk, and he isn’t put off by my health, which is so strange for me and SO AMAZING. His birthday is the day before mine, so we definitely want to go somewhere next March if he isn’t working. We had long chats about life, uni, his chronic fatigue syndrome, Star Wars, and every other random subject under the sun.
He called me as he walked home (it was about a four mile walk, but he likes long walks at night and has called me from random places many times). We chatted some more, and somehow knowing that he’s coming to stay soon makes going back to uni less daunting. I will be less isolated. I already have so many plans for the first week. My Italian friend from uni was the first friend I actually made there. We talked for ages before fresher’s week even started, and on the first day my family sat with hers and we all got along very well. Our parents email each other, and although she then got a boyfriend, bailed on our plans all the time about ten minutes before they were due to happen, and wasn’t heard of for months and months, she is such a lovely person. She messaged me the other night and I helped her out with a dilemma she is in, and then suggested that we should meet each other on the first day of our second year, just like we did during our first year, and make it like… an annual thing. She loves the idea, so that’s happening later today.
I’m sorry this post is rubbish, but I have to go now. Next time I post, it will be from home. From London. From across the road from my university. And I will be a little stunned from the sudden change. But I hope I will be whole again. This is a fresh start. My new year starts every September, not in January. And I can’t wait.