Writing prompt: A 10 minute timed free flow of uninhibited brain dumps.

 

When I was 16, 17 and applying for university I knew I wanted the chance to study abroad. I don’t think I even realised it properly at the time but I’d never really travelled much before that. I’d had a couple of family holidays to Spain, maybe one to France. A couple of school holidays to France and one to Belgium. Wait no that’s not really true, is it. Funny how the brain works. I’d also already been to Mexico, Dubai and the good ol’ US of A. So I’m chatting a load of crap. Actually no, I think my timelines are wrong. Oh, whatever.

 

So yes I wanted to study abroad. It was like an all-inclusive package student holiday. Going away on a program meant easier avenues to find friends when I got there, a structure and routine of studying to feel like I belonged and the opportunity to live for 6 months somewhere else. It felt like a dream.

 

You had to get a certain grade, which I did by the skin of my teeth and so I was off! Australia here I come!

 

I’m the oldest of four and was 19 when I got the big thumbs up from my university. My mum and my grandma were insistent on not going. It was my dad who fought my corner. He knew just how important it was for me to go and he also wanted that for me too. He wanted me to grab and clutch at all life had to offer. Together we made a compelling case and eventually everyone was onboard.

 

It was the best 6 months. One of the best times of my life. I doubt I will ever feel so zesty and free and in awe of life. It’s hard to channel those feelings now even. The memory itself an impenetrable bubble.