So it has been exactly a week since I got off the plane in Boston and returned home. There are snow flurries outside and we have our Christmas tree surrounded by presents getting ready for the holiday. I have gone to bed at 11 o'clock or earlier every night since I got back and am finally starting to feel rested and normal. Turns out, nearly four months of living somewhere that is 6 hours ahead does not get undone in a day...
So what have I done with my first week in America?
1. Shopping
2. TGIF's and Applebee's
3. Rang up a million groceries at Shaw's Supermarkets
4. Watched The Big Bang Theory and Cupcake Wars
5. Went to a birthday party
6. Unpacked and began my mountain of laundry
How does it feel to be back? This is the question I have been asked by nearly everyone. I am not a liar, so I tell them the truth: "Weird, but good." It is weird. It is weird to be driving a car instead of walking places. It is weird to see all the signs in just one language-English. Even weirder to hear American accents everywhere. The day after I got home, my mom, sister, and I were in Kohl's Christmas shopping. I heard a woman talking and instantly got excited, as we all did when we heard a familiar voice during study abroad. I almost said, "Look! That woman is from America!" But then I realized that everyone was from America.
I am not in Europe anymore. My life no longer consists of the Mediterranean, speaking Spanish, and country-hopping every weekend. Palm trees are not a part of the landscape. I don't wake up randomly to hear protests on the streets and I don't have to hold on to my purse everywhere I go. The food is fattier and bigger. I am in Charlton now, and I find myself wandering around the house trying to figure out what to do with myself. There are moments when it hits me, when I am sad because I am here, but there are moments when I am just so happy to be back home in my New England, with the people that I love.
I have had a lot of time to think since being back, and I realized one of the great joys and great trials of study abroad is that you make it your home. A semester is a long time to be someplace foreign, and by the time I left, I didn't feel as much like a foreigner in Barcelona. The streets were familiar and I knew where to get fresh fruit and how long it would take to walk to Plaza Catalunya. But I still felt like I didn't belong when people spoke to me in English once they heard my accent or when I caught people staring at me on the metro. Three and a half months is not enough time to become a part of a place. So instead, because we all need to find a home, you become a part of the people.
Now, my friends are scattered around the globe, from Australia to England to Barcelona to California. How amazing is that, to have a home in all of those places? Blessed is the only word grand enough to encompass that magic.
It is true that I was happy to be coming home.
It is also true that I cried in the taxi on the way to the airport.
I thought that this blog was going to end when I got back to America. I thought that when I got home, I would put my "study abroad journal" away and continue with the one I kept here, in Massachusetts. But then I realized that I am not going to simply stop writing about study abroad.
I will be writing about this for the rest of my life.
Tears from me as well.
ReplyDeleteHappy you are home.
Sad you are home.
Happy you were able to do something so grand, and so brave.
Sad about the emptiness you must now feel.
Happy you have many, many more days of your life left to live and explore.
Happy you have learned that home really is wherever and with whomever you want it to be. It doesn't have to be a place; it can simply be a feeling you bring to a place.
Contentment and love - that will always be your home.
Who am I kidding?! Enough sentiment! Home is where your mother is!