And besides, looking back over these blog posts, I’m worried I’ve left the impression that I don’t like my sister.
Therefore, now, as I face my death at age twenty-nine and ten days, it is the time to get real. The truth is, I do NOT dislike my sister. We don’t hang out much and we don’t agree on anything, really, but I love her, and in the event of my demise it’s important to me that she knows that. She’s my sister. I have to love her, right?
So, Sophia——I do love you. Even when you invariably notice the rip in whatever I am wearing. Even when you point out the bags under my eyes from staying up all night playing Xbox. Even when you criticize my current quest.
Okay. I’ve done it. I’ve said all I need to say. Now I can go to my end in peace. I wish I’d talked more to that writer Jack about Scotland when I had the chance in the cab. And it kind of kills me not to ever know what it’s going to be like to be thirty. I’ve heard the thirties as a decade really kick ass.
Goodbye. I love you all. Remember me. Thank you for reading.
- ES
Comments: 2
HiHoKitty, Sapporo, Japan:
It so brave to fly to find Jamie in spite your fear. I read your earlier posts to my book club. We all behind you, Miss Emma.
ParisiansLovePipers, Paris, France:
We love Jamie, et nous vous aimont trop, Emma. Bon voyage!
Part Two: The Retracing
Fantastic Flight…
11:00 am, February 25
Edinburgh Airport, Scotland
I’m here.
Can you believe it?
I can hardly believe it.
I am HERE. That is to say, alive, and on the ground in Scotland. Tired, cricked-of-neck from sitting frozen with fear for over seven hours on the plane, but with a weird kind of adrenaline-optimism shooting through my veins. I actually made it.
Not quite to the correct city, however.
My Glasgow flight was redirected to Edinburgh, due to a massive snowfall. And it was even touch and go here in Edinburgh, with some talk of dropping us in Manchester. Apparently they are not used to big snowfalls here.
But the pilot came on the p.a. system, and said he was going to give ‘er a go, and for the three thousandth time I closed my eyes and prayed to a God I don’t really believe in, and sure enough——whatever he gave ‘er actually worked. We didn’t even slide sideways on the landing, or crash into a snowbank, or anything. Not sure that the conversation with God helped. (But if it did——thank You…)
So I am here in a teashop in the airport, eating my first Scottish——REAL Scottish——shortbread, and trying to take it all in. The air is alive with wonderful accents and I don’t know if it’s jetlag talking but I. Just. Feel. Wonderful!
Because of the change of city, I’m going for broke and actually booking a hotel online through Sizzlespot. I’ve likely lost my deposit at the Glasgow hostel, I guess, but maybe I can get a note from the pilot and get my ten pounds back.
A note from the pilot? Yeah, okay, so maybe it’s jetlag after all. I don’t care a bit. Once I get some sleep, I guess I’m actually going to make a few changes to my plan.
But for now, I’m sipping bitter tea——just like Murtagh would make it!——and grinning like a fool at everyone who passes.
I’m here. In the land of Jamie Fraser.
I love it already.
- ES
Comments: 2
SophiaSheridan, Chicago, USA:
Okay, Emma, I quit. I can’t believe you’ve actually gone through with this. There’s no turning back now, you know. No one is going to come rescue you when things go wrong. I can’t imagine your money will last long, so we can talk about this when it runs out. Then we’ll see if you remember my phone number.
JackFindlay, New York, USA:
Hey, Emma. Used the card you gave me to find your blog. This is quite an adventure you’ve planned! It’s nice to find you online after the odd meeting in Philadelphia, and I’m chuffed to see you’ve made it safely. Looks like I’m following in your footsteps, as I’m now in New York City, en route to heading home myself in a few days. My editor feels the final draft of the project I’m working on needs a fact check, so that’s my next job sorted. Maybe we’ll cross paths again, but anyway, just wanted to say it was lovely to meet you, and I wish you luck.
Jack
Ah, jet lag.
I’d heard tell of it, but waking at five the day after my flight arrived, I marveled that anything could make such an early riser of me. While no one in the B&B was stirring, I took advantage of the ‘Wi-Fi-included’ option that I hadn’t had the pleasure of enjoying while staying at the American hostels, and read the most recent comments while my tea steeped.