Goodbye, Scotland

Travelers beware: leaving Scotland, you will take a piece of it home with you. 

My last day in Scotland was bittersweet. There was that part of me that screamed, “be in the moment. Enjoy these last hours” and another that thought, “it's already over - time to be sad." I struggled to find my middle ground between these two thought processes, as many people do while traveling.

On this last day, I woke up and drank my morning tea with my grandma (who I could tell was as sad about us leaving as I was). In preparation for the day, and the long plane ride coming, I gathered my clothes -and souvenir buys- into my suitcase, and threw on whatever clean outfit was left. Since we had travelled so much in the days before, we decided to stay local and keep it simple for the last day. I was excited to see what hidden gems Kirckaldy had to offer. Contrary to what my dad said about his small hometown, I grew to really love it on this last day. The High Street was one of my favorite parts; it was like an outdoor mall made out of ancient stone. I loved visiting the local businesses, buying soaps and random trinkets to take back with me to the states. With each purchase, I thought: “well, I don't know when I’ll be back!” This was true, and hard for me to grasp.

After shopping some of the day away, my dad suggested we go down to the beach. Although the brisk air and breeze kept us from even dipping our toes in, it was nice taking in the water. Unlike the beaches I was used to, the Kirckaldy beach was rough and rocky. It was not the kind of beach you lay out on. Beautiful, nonetheless. My sister and I had fun hopping from one moss-covered rock to the next, until the rain came and it was time to find the car. 

Dinner time arrived, and you can guess what my meal of choice was. Those last 9 days, I had yearned for dinner time. This evening I dreaded it, as I knew this was my last fish and chips meal for the foreseeable future. Keeping that in mind, I stuffed myself by ordering a large fish and chips dinner. I can still remember the fresh and flaky texture of the fish and how fizzy the Irn-Bru was. Before I knew it, my last bite was gone and my last meal was over. I spent the ride home back to grandma's house staring out the window, taking in the town I had grown up hearing about. As my dad drove us past the house he grew up in, I listened to him and grandma’s reminisce on stories from years before. Just down the road from there, we stopped by the golf club he grew up playing at. I felt proud looking at the wall that still held my dad’s name and picture on a plaque titled "golf champion."  

Although we had been on so many big, exciting adventures the days before, there was something that felt so full-circle and heartwarming about touring the town my dad grew up in, the town I have heard so much about. As much as I loved my time in Edinburgh and the Highlands, I loved this day the most. 

After one last cup of tea the following morning, my family and I said goodbye to grandma and goodbye to Scotland, not knowing when we would meet again. I dreaded the long plane ride, but knew I would spend that 8 hours flicking through the thousands of Scotland photos I had taken on my camera, at all the memories I captured over the course of that 2 weeks. How could 2 weeks go so fast but a plane ride feel so long, I wondered. I didn't know. The one thing I knew was that even though I was leaving Scotland, it would never really leave me. 

Until we meet again, Scotland.