A story of a girl who, when she learned to walk, never looked back. And she didn’t.
Last summer, she cried when after six weeks of absence, she ran to her father in the middle of the airport terminal and hugged him as if she never would again. But she didn’t cry because of missing her family, she cried because she missed her other family, her NSLI-Y family. She had been awake for much over 24 hours, broken down over five times each time she had to leave a part of her family, and knew that the moment she had her reunion with her family, her NSLI-Y family was in the past. You see, she only looked forward, at the times she would have without those close friends and newfound family, not back at the memories she made and the laughs that were had and everything they experienced together, because those are nothing to cry about.
From leaving my friends and family at 厦大 to leaving 厦门 to leaving 中国 to the departures of each of my fellow travelers, it all came too soon. None of us were ready for the end, but it came nonetheless. It’s been a while, but I’ve learned to look back. No, I still don’t really look back when walking, but I do look back on my NSLI-Y experiences with a smile.
