The last few days were almost surreal. In fact, the entire summer trip I took was surreal. Everyday was precious, as my clock ticked away at the remaining days I had left in Europe. But as I packed my bags, made the final arrangements for the flight home and thought about what life would be like 72, 48, 24 hours later, reality was slowly creeping back into my life. And so was an inexplicable fear and dread that things would never be the same as before, they would never be the same again.
On the flight back, I had multiple flashbacks in my mind, back to an almost similar situation when I was sitting by the window, in an almost similar aircraft to a not so similar location. This time I was in the best company possible, whereas before, I was alone and slightly miserable. Half of my mind couldn’t comprehend what made time speed by so quickly that I could remember every detail of the night I left so vividly as if it were yesterday. The other half simply grappled lamely at what life promises ahead.
My first few encounters with home were rather odd. I have not felt such soft clothes for a really long time; my RJ shirt that I brought along with me has gotten coarse over the months with non-delicate washing, whereas the one back home is as soft as silk. The shower is big and clean, the towels are thick and fluffy, there is food everywhere, I have a lot more clothes than I remember, I have so many things in my room. Such detail, previously part and parcel, literally jumped up in my face as I lingered around the house. There was a physical familiarity, but an inkling of displacement that grew increasingly evident and disconcerting over time.
I feel a little lost, rather out of place, and very glum. I thought it would be easy, to have a goal in mind upon returning and simply use that as motivation and encouragement. Perhaps it was the air, the atmosphere, the general physical location, but a few days ago, I thought a lot more things were attainable. But now, I feel so far away from everything I covet, and it all seems so very bleak that I do not know where to even begin picking up my life again.
So yes, I miss you already. I missed you the moment I stepped on that train to Paris, I missed you under the blistering hot sun in Rome and now I miss you ever more.
Home is where the heart belongs, but what if my heart belongs somewhere else?