Leaving

Last night around 2:30 in the morning, my roommate Luis Facebook-chatted me, asking what I was still doing awake. Luis was at his friend's house undoubtedly getting plastered, a fact I was cognizant of and confirmed the following morning, so I kept the conversation light and simple. "About to pack. My final 24 hours here."

And that's when it hit me that my semester here is coming to and end. This past week the thought of leaving has excited me because it came with thoughts of traveling to Colombia and returning to the United States to see family and friends. But the moment I read my words to Luis I was overcome with emotion as I realized I didn't want to go.

My thoughts immediately turned back to my first day here, when terrified but eager I checked into my hostel and began a new chapter in my life. So much has changed since that day I hardly recognize that person. I've learned how to cook and how to speak Spanish slang. I've memorized bus routes and given directions to tourists. More significantly, I've had so many changes of heart regarding my future profession — ranging from the serious (English as a Second Language teacher) to the not-so-serious (professional movie subtitler) — I can't keep track anymore.

And somehow, I've gotten to know this giant city. Between the speculation about college classes, summer internships and career paths, I've admired colorful facades and watched kids kick around torn-up soccer balls and walked cobblestone streets that seemed to go on forever. I'm leaving Buenos Aires with more questions than answers, but right now the only thing I care about is I'm leaving.