So long, and thanks for all the fish...

You and I will meet again,
When we're least expecting it.
One day, in some far off place,
I will recognize your face.
I won't say goodbye, my friend,
For you and I will meet again.

-- Tom Petty, "You and I Will Meet Again"

My girls left this morning; a heart-wrenching silence has since settled on the flat. Fortunately, we three ladies of Flat G have already started planning for road trips between Vandy, Bama, and Hotlanta, meeting somewhere in the middle.

However, the prospect of seeing them again does little to assuage the pain of their leaving. That's because their departure is a symptom of a larger hurt--my own imminent congé from Scotland. I'm not ready to leave, and with my flight out from Edinburgh looming on the horizon, I fear I'll come to resent the ties to Alabama that are ultimately responsible for my return.

Damn you, Alabama! Sure, you made the best experience of my life possible; but as with every deal made with the Devil, there has been a hell of a price to pay.

My other friends will continue to trickle back to the States over the course of the week, and I've started steeling my resolve for the farewells both to them and to the Scottish friends I've made, both student and non-student alike. I hope that this cloud will lift when I see my family at the gate in New Orleans, when I get back to T-town and settle into my old routine. I hope I'm wrong in feeling that coming home is a mistake.

Excuse me, Hume's metaphysics and moral philosophy require my attention and my face seems to have sprung yet another leak.