I’m looking forward to seeing the ocean again, the castle ruins and the heeland coos, the munros and the glens, to hearing people speak in charming accents, to driving up and down the mountain roads and along the coasts, to getting myself familiar with new music I’d have loaded into my trusty old iPod with the cracked screen, and to seeing the northern lights more vividly than ever.
I’m looking forward to experiencing autumn in other parts of the world, to driving through the mists on the right side of the road, to watch the stormy seas safely from the shore, to letting the lighthouse shine its light on me in the dark of night, to eating haggis, nips and tatties, skyr, kleinur, and kjötsúpa, and to a cup of hot chocolate from a chocolatier in the middle of nowhere.
I’m looking forward to walking up and and down the hills and to complaining about it (as I always do), to reading words written in languages I don’t understand and to trying to figure out how to pronounce those words, to window-shopping and to eating unfamiliar food in unfamiliar places, to the walks on the beach, and to seeing something beautiful and not taking a picture of it because I know any picture I took wouldn’t do it justice.
I’m looking forward to spending two whole weeks with my love, to hopefully meeting up with old friends, to getting lost and stumbling upon interesting places, to seeing some wildlife, to finding interesting rocks to take home as souvenirs, to visiting national parks, to trying out new snacks, and to smelling the mouth-watering aroma of the noodle soup on “our street” again.
I’m looking forward to getting weary of travelling and to longing to be home, to the drive home from the airport, to getting home and to greeting the house like it was an old friend, to being happy to be sleeping on my own bed again, and to having a renewed appreciation of all the little things that make this old house a home.