Well, the 121 days are over. This time tomorrow I'll probably be pulling up the driveway, Ruckus in the window spazzing, and a warm house with its distinctive and familiar smells and sights waiting for me. As long as my flight isn't delayed or canceled by the mini-blizzard happening in Denmark right now...
I know that the novelty of this experience will last a long time (I'm sorry in advance if I talk about it in excess when I return). Even now I am aware that I will remember Copenhagen in pieces. I won't be able to see the light-rail without thinking of my morning commute on the S-tog. When I eat a peanut butter and jelly sandwich I'll think of standing at the kitchen counter at 8 o'clock at night making my lunch for school and chatting with Irene. I know I'll miss Denmark, but forever I'll be reminded of my time here. It's one of those experiences that either never leaves you or takes a very long time to linger away.
Regardless, this is the end, there's no denying that. This is the final chapter for now. But it's certainly not the end of my travels; I refuse to think so. That's why I am saying "vi ses" which is like "see you later" rather than saying "farvel" which is more of a formal goodbye with an unknown return.
It's hard to believe it's really over. When I imagine departing I see this very distinctive picture: I am at the gate, the huge 747 plane visible through the glass windows ahead of me, and on my shoulders I am holding my heavy carry-on bag filled with Christmas gifts. I hand over my boarding pass, somewhat hesitantly, to the ticket attendant who procedurally and routinely rips it. After receiving the remains of my boarding pass (another ticket I'll add to my growing collection), I look back one last time, longingly, but happily at Denmark. There's a silent exchange that happens between me and this country, if that's possible. I let it know that however small Denmark may be, it will always be big in my heart. I let it know I'll be back someday, hopefully in warmer weather. I'll turn towards the gate, take the few steps into the hall that will lead me to the plane. When I am out of sight, the music will start and the screen turns black. That's when the credits start to roll.
I see it this way because I imagine it like a movie. It couldn't have been real. It was all a movie. Now, let the credits roll.
