As the third anniversary of my move to Scotland got closer, I could feel that it was marking the end of a period of my life. Long forgotten memories from “before” were coming back to me in flashes and my emotions were out of control. A page was going to get turned, and my past was desperately trying to stop me to do so. Living in Glasgow was not this temporary and special thing anymore. It was really my life. I was not going anywhere.

It got me thinking a lot about friendship. From all the changes that have happened since I had jumped on that plane, losing friends had probably been the most painful. I had left, and life as I knew it kept going, without me. I had been living with the guilt of not coming back home enough, of not staying in touch enough, of not trying hard enough. And with the sadness of being forgotten.

Sabrina came to visit in May. A friend from my old life. A friend from before. We travelled around Scotland together, sharing a tent and a ridiculously small car. We talked about the past and the people I used to know. We talked about our lives as they are now and where we want them to go. And we created new memories to cherish once back home, each on our side of the Channel.

Her visit showed me that bridges between then and now can be built. It doesn’t have to be so radical. You definitely can’t take everyone with you on the other side, but some might follow when you’ve given up.

I’ll take it.