Dream Catch Me

*This narrative is meant for the Lives submission*

Nanjing, China holds a special place in my heart. In a room on the twelfth floor, I sat in the bathtub. Warm water ran cold; my attempt at relaxation didn’t sooth my thoughts. My dilemma consumed me. My body was worn down and my mind frayed and tattered. My inner conflict was visibly taking over. It was early November, and the chill of winter in the Northern Hemisphere was seeping in slowly. 

The first night of that particular journey ended in an elaborate hotel at the airport in Kuala Lumpur, the smell of cigarette smoke still clung to the surfaces of the room. In the morning my I would make my way to the big country just North of Malaysia with my study group. Not the biggest landmass in the world, but the fourth, inhabited by the greatest population, exceeding 1.3 Billion people. It was in this vast country that I was struggling more than ever with my choice.

It was an amazing opportunity to be a part of the Curtin University East Asian Study Tour. Before joining the group I had been exploring Australian culture while studying abroad in Perth—the most isolated capital city in the world. I felt a heart string vibrate when the letter in my Kalamazoo College mail box gave me the news—accepted. Destination Australia, a small inkling of what was to come crept up on me and the anticipation began to build. A hopeless romantic, following her bliss, I got off the plane in Perth expecting paradise but the airport led to a parking-lot, which led to a highway, which led to a tiny bedroom cold and painted white. My overwhelming feeling upon my arrival to Curtin University Student Housing was surprised disappointment.

This feeling wasn’t unlike our first pit stop in China. Groggy and unsettled, I shuffled off of the bus and into the bathroom; I was shocked to find that my first squatting experience had suddenly arrived. I rose to the challenge and that night I successfully entered my fluids into the traditional Chinese toilet—somewhat disgruntled and dismayed. It wasn’t unlike the bush pees that had often been so necessary in the outback but the unsavory toilet was not my real concern. My heart throbbed for the land I had left behind.

Returning to the bus, I felt small riding through the bigness of China. Sky-scraper apartment buildings lined the highway and denim and cotton hung from even the highest windows. Despite the throbbing my head due to the arrival of an untimely chest cold that had settled in just before our departure, I kept myself busy by breaking out a bus seat ab workout. The last time I had done this, I was en route to Broome, more than two thousand Kilometers north of Perth. 

Coral Reef Studies, Indigenous Culture classes, and Environmental Studies had not quite satisfied my desire for a true Australian experience. Living on campus, surrounded by concrete buildings and confining classrooms I booked my trip to Broome in September. The nine day tour that took me to that sandy shore where we said goodbye is the first of the best Australian memories I collected during my time there. 

While I tightened, grunted and released, only to breathe in and repeat, the memories of my past four months spent in Australia had me agonizing over this one decision. Nanjing was where I had to decide my future.

“You only live once,” was the anthem my friends and I proclaimed during our time abroad. For me, that anthem grew louder and louder as I journeyed farther from the Aussie land. It sung of a man with scruffy hair, a scruffy face, and a smile that makes my heart race. The first time we met I knew I was in for an adventure of a lifetime. We were headed north, to Broome, through the Australian bush. I remember noticing his hair. He had the most serious case of bed-head I had seen in a long time. I came to discover that his hair always looked that wild. Even wilder was how close I was that night in Nanjing—close to returning. Returning, but to which country I couldn’t be sure.

Water droplets filled the creases in my worried forehead. I looked out across the landscape, at the small piece of Nanjing before me. 

The bathroom fog quickly faded and the answer slowly became clear. I would do what I’d been dreaming. My hair was wet and chilling but my excitement kept me burning—never have I felt so much fire inside. I pressed the send button. The whole process took a mere 20 minutes. Keen to discover my fate but too scared to speak of it I began my day much like any other. I ate the French toast that morning, it was doughy and delicious, a warm comfort after a night of still, stiff, darkness. 

After a long day of wondering I took my time checking my inbox for the email I awaited. I was patient while the pages fully loaded before rushing to discover the answer to the seemingly endless question I had been asking myself for months. I typed my password slowly, with purpose. Despite my methodical efforts to delay the process, to have some control over the outcome, the page loaded quickly and there it was. My visa grant notification had arrived only one day after I had submitted the application. Too shocked for words, I grinned uncontrollably.

            I had not known that in that room on the twelfth floor of a hotel in Nanjing, China that my heart would melt and my soul would sing. My anticipation reached a crescendo, a hopeless romantic, following her bliss; I would return to Australia to be with the one I missed.