When I finally took the plunge and purchased a one-way flight to Edinburgh – a place I had been longing to revisit for years – pangs of nervousness and doubt overshadowed my excitement. As much as I was ecstatic to return, I knew there was a possibility I would feel differently for the city, that the sense of awe and wonder I once felt so strongly would no longer exist. After all, it had been nearly three years since I first visited, and I felt like a different person in many ways.
But as I rode the bus into the city centre on my first day back, the familiar Gothic spire of the Scott Monument came into view, and those old feelings of excitement and elation came rushing back with full force; Edinburgh’s beauty once again left me feeling overwhelmed.
I wandered around the city, losing myself within the cobbled streets and labyrinth-like lanes. I strolled along the Royal Mile, admiring the medieval architecture that I fell in love with three years ago. I stood at the top of Calton Hill and marvelled at the magnificent view of the city below. I sat in Princes Street Gardens and revelled in the peacefulness. I stared in awe every time I caught a glimpse of the castle looming in the distance – even more beautiful framed by flowering cherry blossom trees.
I lingered at the top of Calton Hill, staring out at the distant sea, trying to comprehend the fact that I was indeed in Edinburgh and not back home, lost in a daydream. During that moment of silent reflection – with the warm sun lending momentary respite from the cool wind – a feeling of peace overcame me, and I knew I had made the right decision in coming to Edinburgh. All the fears of abandoning and missing my family and friends, stressing about finding a job, and all other insignificant worries were whisked from my mind, swept away with the blustery breeze toward the sea.