#3

Gone in a flash: the bomb that made me let go of expectation

By Sid Watson

Illustrations by @summertangsn

Picture this: it was friday the 26th of Feb (2021); I had just finished my second week back on campus this term. As I walked along the river to meet my friends, I had a lot to look forward to: the coming weekend, my birthday the following week (if the sun held we might be able to go to the beach!), and the rest of term spent with my new friends that I finally felt fully comfortable with. In fact, I was quite stunningly happy in spite of myself. Suddenly, my reverie was broken by an email arriving. Opening it, I read: “URGENT: you are being evacuated from your building due to the discovery of a WW2 bomb nearby. You must return to your building immediately to pack clothes for at least two days.”

“was not unlike being woken from a dream in which you’ve married Timothee Chalamet and now live on the Mamma Mia island in Greece”

Ok, I thought, somewhat distressing, but it's only a weekend (famous last words). Unfortunately, however, it wasn’t just a weekend: by Sunday, though the bomb had been detonated, we weren’t allowed back, so I left the friends house that I’d been staying at (thank you Lucy) and went home, fully planning to return thursday, just in time for my birthday. On Thursday morning however, the death knell rang, with an email stating: “You will not be able to return to your current university accommodation for the rest of term.” Yes, you read that correctly, the rest of TERM.

My reaction to this was not unlike being woken from a dream in which you’ve married Timothee Chalamet and now live on the Mamma Mia island in Greece (I’ve had that dream, not to brag), only to open your eyes to the realities of living through a third lockdown, in the UK, in winter, at home, no Timothee Chalamet-types to be found. In other words, I was shocked and disappointed, and after this year, tired. Tired of being faced with life threatening events, tired of having to make decisions in crisis and be responsible and not just live the carefree life that a 20 year old is supposed to have, and tired, most of all, of all my best laid plans being dashed effortlessly by the hell pit that we call the last 12 months. If this sounds like I was wallowing in a pool of self pity, I certainly was, so please forgive the tone of menial teenage angst.

Pulling myself out of my wallow before I reached peak nihilism, I realised that this year has been a life lesson in letting go of expectations. That isn’t to say we shouldn’t make plans, but simply that there are some things that are out of our control: change happens, and all we can do is live in that new moment as best we can, without comparing it to our vaulted expectations of what might’ve been. If we attach ourselves too much to our expectations, particularly if they’re high, there's a fairly high likelihood we will be let down, and we’ll miss out on some of truly wonderful moments, just because we couldn’t stop feeling like we missed out on something potentially better (or at least that's what I’ve experienced - again, the teenage angst). So if this bomb, and this year, can leave me with any sage advice it is to let go of expectations: instead of living in what might be, let's try to focus on what is.