Leaving home and going home: dwellings on departing Durham

By Mya Downing

My baby brother is coming up to Durham this afternoon. I say baby brother; he is actually a few days away from turning 18, however he will still always be the baby of the family. I look forward to having him here. My house is currently thread-bare, all my stuff having been collected by the moving company this morning, so it will be good to feel like there is some presence in the home. He hasn’t been to Durham before; despite I having lived here for 3 years, he has never visited. Yet, that makes me pleased today.

I graduated last Friday. It was a truly beautiful day, although one I don’t think I was quite prepared for. I was ready to celebrate, to complete my degree, however I was not ready for my Durham life to be over. I don’t think I had processed that graduating would entail leaving this city that I have grown into over the last few years. I had established a home, a community here, and I was not, I am not, quite ready to give it up. To be true to all those before me, no one is ever quite ready to leave. I cannot say that this feeling is one no one else has ever felt before, and that I am special for comprehending this emotion. Yet, I never quite realised how strong this feeling would be, and how hard it would be to detach the heartstrings intricately intertwined within the fabric of the Durham cityscape. I fear the moment I pull one cord, the cord tied to this home, that I will unravel completely, like a woollen jumper caught on a door handle.

I am not quite over Durham; there are days I fear I may never be. Nostalgia is a construct that make us miss something that we will never experience again, yet it is already haunting my mind. However, with my brother arriving, I get to mitigate nostalgia’s momentum. Whilst some may say he should have visited sooner, rather than when I am about to leave, I am actually all too glad with these circumstances. His long-overdue visit enables me to be a tourist in Durham one last time. I get to show off all the sites that I will miss and I get to experience all the attractions like it is the first time once again. Rather than dwelling on the idea that I will not be here for much longer, I get to imagine that I have just arrived. It is a feeling I am more than excited for. Whilst it does entail the beginning of my transition from resident to tourist, it happens in a way that feels celebratory. Instead of abandoning my home, I get to see it in a new light, a light that will now be my eternal experience of Durham, and although this light will have slight tinges of longing, it will glow with happiness and a remembrance of the love once shared on these cobbled streets and amongst the verdant, riverside trees.

My brother has just texted me saying that he is on the train and that it will arrive here in a few hours. I have just replied saying that I will be there to collect him from the station. Very soon, I will become the tourist. But I do not fear. As I finish writing this, sat in Leonard’s, the dregs of my iced americano at the bottom of my glass, I am excited rather than despairing. The sun is shining, my friends have just walked in, and I plan on seeing some alpacas this evening before heading to Spags and The Swan with people I love endlessly. There is so much sadness in the world but, as the saying goes, none in this room. There is no point being upset about things you cannot change. Rather, it is better to be glad for all the things you have been able to do. The past has already been granted, and the future is never promised, so it is better to live in the now, and enjoy the joy bestowed by previous experiences. I am not sad to leave Durham; I am happy to experience it anew.

Image: Mya Downing