I studied abroad in Barcelona last semester and returned home to Beirut for four months of summer break, making it a grand total of nine months I have been away from the United States and the University of Massachusetts. I remember sitting at the bus stop at Haigis Mall, waiting for the Peter Pan bus that would take me to Logan Airport, feeling very sorry for myself (a ridiculous concept—I was studying abroad and essentially embarking on a nine-month-long summer vacation).

As a child, I never enjoyed change. I cried when I turned 14 because I thought I was getting too old. I also had crises at 16, 18 and 21, on the basis that things were changing too much. I cry too much at goodbyes, become resentful of television series creators when their shows end and will have a tantrum if the menu of a favorite restaurant of mine changes.

My friends and family reassured me that nine months was a short time, in the grand scheme of my life. I knew this, of course, but took comfort in the constant reminders.

I went to Barcelona, visited 10 other places during that semester, spent an exorbitant amount of money, gained 10 pounds, flew on far too many small planes that I didn’t believe were actually going to land and slept in airport chairs that may or may not have permanently damaged my spine, until suddenly I found myself tearing up and pretending to flick dust out of my eye in the Barcelona airport as I boarded my plane home to Beirut.

Again, I sat at the gate feeling extremely sorry for myself (another ridiculous concept—I was going home to my two quirky cats, mother’s over-indulgence and grandmother’s excessive pampering).

Another four months went by, and I settled into my life at home again, almost forgetting that I didn’t live there anymore. The months passed, and the temperature rose, people’s tempers rising with it. August came and went, and UMass emails flooded my inbox. Senior year was upon me.

During the last few days before it was time for me to board yet another flight, I started feeling that sense of dread coming over me again. I loved going to new places, but I hated leaving places behind. I felt restless, eager to go at one moment, miserable the next, desperate to stay even a little longer.

I thought about the concept of time, and how things are constantly changing. With every second that passes, something miniscule changes and you don’t even notice.

I have spent so many hours plotting my next move or destination, getting lost in my own anxiety and creating problems where there are none. This time I decided I would not be my own worst enemy.

I packed my suitcases, as I have done so many times before, and forced myself to be positive. I embraced the change instead of resisting it. My flight was at 4 a.m., so I was sneaking away in the dead of night, the neighborhood quiet, no one aware that I was leaving. Another change that no one would feel.

My mother was shocked that I didn’t cry, as she usually enjoys making fun of how much I blubber at the airport.

I’m a senior at UMass now, and although we are only three weeks into the school year, so much has changed already. I keep expecting to be more nervous about graduating, but instead anticipate entering the unknown. I like that I don’t know where I’ll be in nine months, and I’m looking forward to being surprised.

Ruwan Teodros is a Collegian columnist and can be reached at [email protected].