Returning home from London a month early was extremely difficult in a variety of aspects. I went home without having done a lot of things I had planned to do, and in turn, made me more grateful for the time and opportunities that I had been given during the program as it was a valuable lesson in not taken anything for granted. I realized that in the future, if I want to do something or go somewhere, then to do it and make it happen instead of constantly pushing it back, because one never knows when their time is up. Coming home was difficult in the capacity that I thought I had one week left at least in London to spend with my flat mates, who became some of my best friends, and to breathe in the city one final time. Instead, due to worsening conditions and the U.S. borders being closed before my flight was due (which would have thus cancelled it as I would have to had flown into a different airport) I faced the decision of leaving within 24 hours of that closure notice. So, on Saturday, thinking I had a week left, I instead packed all my belongings and left at 2pm the next day. Less than 24 hours later, I was gone from a country that had taught me so much about independence, confidence, growth, and love. I left the city that had defined me for the last three months and was robbed one more month of it. I didn’t know the last time I made coffee in the morning in the flat, or took the 5 minute walk to Frank’s for the best meal I’d ever had, when my flat mates and I went out or when we all sat up talking for hours on end, or even simply when I rode the tube, that it was all for the last time. That notion still hurts, and I still feel cheated. Coming home early was also difficult in the capacity of having to readjust myself to American climate and culture without previously setting the mindset to do so. Seeing my parents was wonderful, but I was also still cautious of hugging or being near them because of the pandemic and where I was in addition to me having just gone through a plane ride and two airports. It made the reunion more scaled back, and I regret that even though I only wanted to look out for their wellbeing.
Reflecting on my initial post when I left for London, I recall the excitement and anxiety I felt towards embarking on this program. I was largely nervous because I had never spent such a large amount of time away from home before, and my identity as a daughter/sister/grandchild would not be fulfilled being across the ocean. However, after a time of adjusting and growing comfortable in my own skin, I learned to truly love it. I Face-Timed my parents and sister many times which helped keep us all connected. After a few weeks, the homesickness began to lessen. Leaving London for spring break and going to Amsterdam and Scotland actually made me homesick for London. I had not realized how attached I had grown to the city and the life I had made for myself there until I left it.
That same feeling of homesickness now transfers over as I am back at “home” in the United States. In my first post, I mentioned that I had been abroad before, and I was a little worried about being surrounded by people having absolutely no idea what culture shock was or how to live in a world that was not their own. I was pleasantly surprised to not have experienced that too much, and rather found myself more immersed with the people I was there with (mostly my flat mates). I realized that my personal concept of “home” is not one set place. It is the people I decide to make it with, whether it be my family or my friends (old or new). I have traveled many places, and have now lived in a global city, albeit it was only a short amount of time. However, my heart is set on traveling, and I know no matter where I go in the future, I know I can make a home where I want it, because that is my identity.
