Where I end and you begin

So it's now come down to this. I'll be out of the Icelandic soil in eight hours (and less when I'm actually completing this), some two months earlier than originally planned. I do not mourn, as I feel happy to go home, but at the same time I'm feeling a certain amount of mist in my eyes, reflecting to all what this half a year has given to me and taken from me. I will not delve into that as I'm not yet sure I can see it all, probably won't until some time later.

There are a lot of things I wanted to see and do here, but I never either had the time, motivation, or ultimately money to. Yet, I am not feeling disappointed. Of course the past six months didn't turn out quite like I would've thought beforehand, but that's just der Lauf der Dinge in life, isn't it? The way things go. What's important is that even when I'm leaving prematurely, I'm both excited to go back and not feeling sad to disappear already. It gives me an itch to come back someday.

This'll also mark the end of this blog. There was a steady decline in posts per month, so it doesn't take much to see that I started either losing the inspiration or running out of things I wanted to say in public. I doubt that I would be able to continue writing something like this when I return home, and even if I could, it would be silly to keep doing it under this blog title.

There are things I know I'll miss the moment I get on the bus towards the Keflavík airport tomorrow. The pools, the vastness of the ocean. The mountains behind the cityscape, the quirky but fascinating language. The adorable cafes, the unexceptional feeling of trust among people. And of course E, E, N, and P, for being the wonderful people you are.

As I'm searching myself for the last words to utter in here, I'm listening to Sigur Rós and peeking out of the window, for the sky is putting out quite a display again. The pink, lavender colours remind me of my first weeks in here, when I was walking towards the campus at sunrise, marvelling how those exact same shades were reflected on the mountain Esja, overlooking the city. It's as if a circle was completed, the colour now moved from the mountain to the sky. It gives me a sense of closure, and I can't stop smiling, looking at those clouds slowly tumble by.

I find the old proverb "home is where your heart is" rather truthful after all these months. When I reflect on my life in here, it truly seems to fit, I guess I knew all the time that I won't stay permanently, or probably even want to. Acknowledging that doesn't take anything away from how much I've enjoyed the time I've been given. Instead it grants me a bit more understanding of my mindset, and how thoroughly Finnish I am. Maybe my heart never settled in Iceland, but it will always long here.