I will tell you about the time I had to move to Bristol (UK) and instead I did not take the flight. Twice.
I’m from Turin; this means that I was born but also grown up there, Turin is the place where there are my life, my roots and my best friends. Eager for change, around 24 years old, I had promised myself that after I had finished the university, I would have moved to London to learn English and to start my new life abroad. Once obtained my doctorate in November (28 years old), needless to say, I fall in love with a handsome 20 years old Brazilian guy and as obviously the lovestory goes wrong and my morale is down, my transfer program is postponed.
Finally in February I buy a flight to Bristol (no more London, but always UK): I quarrel with my parents, prepare the luggage, arrange my room as if I were to never come back, I spend the night at the airport in the stench of piss while two in front of me were doing nothing but kissing (and I thought I wanted to kiss my beautiful Brazilian) and … two hours before the flight departure I decide to take a bus and go back home.
I get home super angry at myself, undo backpack throwing things for the room and screaming. I calm my mind sleeping and playing with my nephews. I calm my mind, but not that much, dissatisfaction and the desire for a change continues to grow inside me, so I try again: I buy another flight in April again with Bristol as destination. This time I do not even arrive at the airport; I spend the evening I was supposed to depart having a beer with friends. I do not buy a third flight, I give up with the project and I invent a new life anyway but in Turin. End of the story.
End of story not really: as I am writing two years are passed but I have been living in London for a month, after spending three months and half in Malta in the summer.
I do not tell about all the doubts and thoughts I had at that time, but in fact why I did not leave? Honestly I do not know. I have never considered going back as a proper “decision”, because for me a decision has an emotional strength that was missing in that case; and I cannot even say I was driven away by life, because I was sit in an airport with ties neither in Italy nor in UK so I was practically and emotionally to ground zero. I can just say that I came back. It is a simplified conclusion, and it is missing a deep meaning that could fit here very well. But in this case things are like this for me, without any deep meaning; and that is it.
I am telling this story to remind to everyone and to myself that leaving is not obvious: it is not obvious to anyone, it is not obvious in the same way for everybody, and it is not obvious all the times. I have lived many adventures, alone or with others, before and after this experience; but I did not take that flight, and I have not taken it twice.
I think whoever did it should not consider himself better, and who has not (yet) done it should consider he/she can still do it.
“When the rhythm is right / it has nothing to do with that of the hand” (Jovanotti)