I’ve been home from London for about a week. In that time I’ve been sick, slept a lot, interviewed for a job, cried in the bath tub, and not wrapped a single Christmas present… so I guess things could be better.
To be honest, I’m just kind of at a loss as to what to do now that I’m home.
I mean, I know what I’ll do, of course. I’ll celebrate the holidays with my family and friends. Move into my apartment at the beginning of next year, and then carry on a mundane routine of going to classes and working once the spring semester starts.
But it’s the in between time and not knowing what to do with that time that has me feeling down.
Like those spare minutes I have to think about London and the person I became while I was there. And the friends I made that are now still across the pond and scattered across the United States. Or the memories I made on my travels to Scotland and Ireland that are constantly bouncing around in my head, begging me to go back.
The other day I was lying in my bed scrolling through Twitter and stumbled across some random historical fact about the Piccadilly Line of the London Underground and tears actually came to my eyes. I got emotional over a public transportation system…. I’m still not really sure what kind of person that makes me. Probably not a normal one, though.
What’s the hardest to deal with? The amount of time I’ll have to wait to return to London.