Lagniappe
(A little something extra)
The Postcard Series
Postcards are near and dear to my heart. They are treasured looking glasses into an exact moment and adventure. I carefully select each postcard for its recipient and pray that they are able to experience a slice of what I am at that destination.
Wherever I travel, I always send a bundle of 'em, including one to myself. It brings me back to the person I was in that very moment and all that I felt. Yet, most postcards... just ain't cute. I decided to fix that by taking my favorite pics from my travels and playing around.
Enjoy!
Love Letters to a City
Every city I have the honor of visiting molds a piece of my heart. I am a lover of pen-palling, snail-mailing, and handwritten things in general, so it only makes sense that this has become a passion project. A love letter to the cities that have shaped me. This is an ode to that.
MILAN, ITALY
Il mio Milano,
I am writing to you from a balcony in bloom. My balcony, to be exact. You know the one - the one hidden behind the mysterious door on the spiral staircase leading up to our flat that we *somehow* only realized we had the key to a week before our departures.
This moment takes my breath away. I am lying down, all 4 of my Milano ragazze beside me: Tessa, Jess, Olivia, and Megan. Each of us live together (not really Jess, but we adopted her as a 4th roommate to complete our 5). We are looking up at your romantic sky with these stunning roses, plump with beauty and blooms. I want to cry. Our Italian affair is coming to an end, and in this moment, my heart aches with all the gratitude, joy, nostalgia, and dolce di niente crammed in there at once. I am full on tiramisu and sweet vino. I am stuffed with memories of adventures, late-night talks, drunken dancing, and (fulfilled) dreams of laughter, travel, and connection.
I already miss you. I am destined to depart in a few short days. The first night I arrived, you adorned me in a glorious sunset. You never stopped showing off. What kills me is that even if I come back to this very flat (Via Melzo 7), I know the sunset will still take my breath away, but le mie ragazze will not be here. We will not be here, together, 21 in Milan—nothing to care about other than the next apertivo and the laughter aching our bellies. The sunset will be the same, but I will not be. Part of that is due to the incredible experiences you have granted me, which I am eternally grateful for. And yet, my heart simultaneously mends and breaks at the thought that your beauty will be the same, but we will not.
Soon, I will see you again. I promise. I will drool over another sunset, on another balcony, with another vino dolce in hand and think of this moment. I will probably cry. I will definitely laugh. And I will be forever grateful for all the beauty and blooming things you placed in my heart.
Grazie per tutto,
Kathryn
GLASGOW, SCOTLAND
Dear Glasgow,
Oi man, how do I say goodbye to you? I met you alone, scared, broken, and barely keeping my head above the water. Your enchanting lands healed me in a way I didn't realize I needed. Now, I am cracked open again from this attempt to say goodbye. I am mourning something I have yet to lose. And while I technically won’t “lose you,” I am losing this version of you.
This version of you, of us, opened its arms to me with a raised pint and a grand laugh, brewing and ready to roar. The year prior shredded me with family *things.* I felt drowned repeatedly, given just enough air to stay somewhat afloat before being dunked once more, and then again, and again. You breathed into me all that I had been searching for: peace, adventure, friendship, family - one away from my own.
You somehow brought me 7 of the kindest, kookiest girls from all different countries and placed them in my flat - in my home. And then you brought me others. Christina, Anna, Heather, all of volleyball. You filled my heart with so much love. And exploration. And magic.
Your city slogan is, “The People Make Glasgow,” and I’ll be damned if that is not spot-f*cking-on. Your people, your nature, your overall feel is pure magic. Magic to be consumed in a pint (or few) among friends and shared with a boisterous laugh (or many). So what is one to do without that magic on tap? What will I do when I no longer come home to a flat full of those 7 girls singing and giggling senselessly? What will I do when I can no longer find Tongtong dancing and singing karaoke whilst eating toast with chopsticks and screaming “PROST!” upon my arrival? What am I to do when I can’t wake up every morning and talk to these 7 strangers who are now family but live in different countries across the world?
My answer is: I don’t know. That’s why leaving is shredding my heart all over, in a much different way. These past 4 months have allowed me not just to breathe but to GULP down the much-needed air, to lose it all again and again to laughter, to imbibe myself full of Glasgow’s charm and enchantment. I cannot say goodbye. I simply do not know how. Instead, I will depart just as I arrived, with one hell of a raised pint (Strongbow with black currant) and tears in my eyes.
So to you, Glasgow, you beautiful, magical, faerie lass. Slàinte.
HWFG,
Kathryn