My wind of changes

The wind of changes has arrived. It is blowing into my face, deconstructing my hair-do (on days when I have one), and streaming my clothes (not exactly in Monroe’s style, and yet pretty much close to it). But what really counts is that it is capturing my heart and making me restless. Positively so.

And this is when the memories of one of my favourite fairy tales (back in my childhood and, unquestionably, now too), Merry Poppins, step forward and shine through the myriad of thoughts, and thoughts, and thoughts. As a child, I think I didn’t get the precise message of the story, enjoying mostly the atmospheric feeling rather than contemplating on the essence of changes as such. One extract, however, I sincerely committed to my memory: the episode when the gulps of enigmatic northern wind communicate to Merry Poppins, the mysterious nanny who always arrived and left with the wind, the impending changes in her life. Again.

It was a Monday, the first chilly and gloomy day after the continuous heat party that so sensuously mellowed the Moscow’s hard-working brains earlier (with my active taking part in it too, of course). I walked in wind. It smelled of rain. I thought of chocolate (for a moment, could I assume you buy into my logics?). And there was a moment, when I spotted a single leave spinning around in wind’s whirlpools. I slowed down my pace and watched. The wind blew sharper and brought the leave right in my feet. I paused to entertain my thoughts. After I resumed my walk, I knew exactly what I felt and where I stood. Anxiety. Light uncertainty. Big adventure. Things are changing. Time has come to go further. That was my wind.

My Dear Friends and Readers, for those of you, who are in the know, and for those, whom my telepathic waves didn’t reach yet, I’m now happy to say I’m leaving Moscow and going somewhere else. I’m going to a petite country that speaks to me so well; the country – to coin a phrase - of excellent cheeses, fragrant tulips, warm-hearted people; the country that caught my heart a while ago. The Netherlands.

I’m leaving behind my family and a few dear friends. True, I’ll be missing my mom and dad in earnest, but as I once said, ‘I’ll better be missing them knowing that I am pursuing my dream, rather than sticking to them and growing bitter and angry about the missed opportunity’. (My wisdom seemingly doesn’t know any boundaries, and humility too.)

This decision didn’t come out of the blue. For a few years I have been working on a puzzle that’s my dream to unite the fragments into the framed picture. I changed the ways, I took the roundabouts, what remained intact was the destination.

Now, I’m proud to be bearing a title of a student again. A pre-Master’s (and further, Master’s too) student in English language and culture, to be more exact. And if you haven’t yet bought into my logics, leave it at that then. English language and culture in Holland - this is so my style.

And as we are talking a long-term trip here, I shall also do my very best imaginable to pack my bag reasonably. * While I’ll still have to give my luggage contents umpteenth clear and crispy thought, one thing will remain non-negotiable. My chocolate stash.

And as I’m favouring the major changes in my life at the present moment of time, please bear with me.

As soon as I settle and unpack my bags, I’ll be with you again.

And in the meantime, all that’s left to say is, ‘thank you for your continuous companionship’.

*Among the public, I’ve been known for schlepping a way too heavy bags and paying really big money for excess luggage