All You Gotta Do Is Dream
On Sunday night I am flying over the roads and acreage farms and miniature houses that span the distance between Glasgow and Edinburgh. From the window of the plane, I can see the motorway stretching out like a vein, glowing an orange-gold in the darkness. I trace its pattern with my finger against the cold glass, following blinking store signs and headlights weaving through the rain. I've just spent the most beautiful weekend with my brother, relaxing and wandering and window shopping and board-game playing. The little break I needed.
In that moment, the world seems so tranquil. The movements calculated, rhythmic. From here, I am separated from fear, separated from the rush and the indecision and the confusion and conundrum of everyday existence. In that moment, I have only one thing on my mind: I am going home.
I can see from the window a collection of lights in the distance. I wonder if it’s Glasgow, in all its glory, welcoming me back. I have always considered this city my home, even now as I prepare to leave and intertwine myself with a new life, a new dwelling place, a new sense of belonging.
No matter the time or distance, this city will always carry my beating heart. It will always give me goosebumps, especially in those moments, as the plane begins to shift downward and the buildings slip into view.
Home reminds me of many things. It is the rooftop where we used to have parties and where we talked about our dreams as the sun was rising. It is the playground down the street where I first contemplated what it meant to really fall in love. It is the high school where I dressed up for dances, the streets I captured through a lens as if they would slip away from me, the embrace of my parents, the laughter from my friends. Home is so many things. And it always will be, no matter the time or space or distance. In that moment, when it is welcoming me back in its lights and brilliance, I couldn't be prouder to call it home.
Today as I write this my heart is so full. And it’s not because of anyone but myself. It's because those dreams I conjured up on that rooftop at two am all those years ago, have finally come true. Not only am I going to India. but I've been accepted by my dream university to study my two favourite subjects- English and History.
I can't stop myself from smiling and jumping up and down in excitement. I can't even describe the feeling to you. I am simply happy because I love this life. I love myself. I love what I'm doing. I love the air and the sunshine and the way the earth smells before the sun rises.
As the week goes on, suddenly all the dreams that have come true start to feel heavy. I'm in the middle of preparing for the race night, my last big fundraising event, and trying to deal with university and exams and leaving school. The condition of my offer was completing summer school, which normally would be great but somehow, fitting in four weeks of summer classes to the already stressful summer of visa applications and injections and packing and preparing to move 7,000 miles away from home is more hectic than I imagined. But I resolve to keep my head up, and remind myself that this is what I've wanted since I was a little kid, and that finally everything I've always wanted is within my grasp.
I am happy because I'm blessed.
I am happy because I've had the time to write, to think, to realise how fortunate I am.
I am happy because there isn't a reason not to be.
I wish I could grab this feeling—the unconscious smile, sense of comfort from my toes to my nose—and wrap it up in a little box to open when I’m low. I know I won’t always feel this way; light on my feet, warm, whole. But for now, I’ll hold onto it as long as I can, keep it close, remember that every day is a gift, and life is good. All you gotta do is dream.