I’ve been home for almost two weeks now, and it hasn’t fully registered with me that I am home, that my time in London ended, but worst of all, that it even happened.
Coming home didn’t even feel real. I exited the airport waiting to get picked up, ran into my family’s arms, and drove away all while thinking: “was it real? Did I really just spend three months in London?” I was confused, disoriented, and sad, all while giddy with excitement of breathing in the New York air. Although it’s an adjustment, I’m glad that out of all of the times to come home, it was during the Holiday Season. All of the lights and decorations greeted me during the drive from JFK to the Bronx. The big Welcome to the Bronx sign stood where it always has. Yankee Stadium is still the same.
I think that’s what I’m having the most trouble with: the fact that nothing changed while I was gone. Everything around me remained the same, yet I felt different. I am different. Wondering if London actually happened was a result of me being confused as to why nothing had changed. Nobody talks about it. It was a one time question and the excitement has gone, yet here I am still happy to share what I have done, where I have been. I keep looking back at my pictures to remind myself that yes, I did just spend three months in London, and those were the best three months of my life. Three months of my life that I can happily put into a box and go back to whenever I need a pick me up, a reminder, or simply to share. It’s funny how you can fit memories into a box, but I guess that’s also the beauty of it, because you can keep them forever. 
I’m coming to terms with it ending, and the biggest help is how excited I am to return home to Rollins. I’ve missed it so much. I can’t wait to spend another three months making wonderful memories at my home away from home. See you soon, Rollins!