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Words
I keep wandering about saying I miss Italy, I miss Italy...it’s not that I was even at my happiest there--I think that’s why I miss it. It wasn’t romanticized. It wasn’t the ‘escape’ that brought joy. There wasn’t much joy. By this I mean: I wasn’t any less happy or sad being there than back home. It was me, as I was, in another place. In a way I don’t precisely have words for yet, I think I miss Italy because it felt like a place I could someday call home.
Five months til my next visit home to my hometown family, friends, and dog. Two years (approximately) til my long-distance BFF and I take our long-desired and well-earned Disney trip.
Most of the time I'm keeping myself busy enough with work and other stuff to not think of it, but sometimes it hits me hard when I realize how long I have to wait to see these people and places again. My BFF lives and works in Africa, but her family (and myself) live in North America, so she has even longer stretches of not seeing us all.
And yet I don't want to move back, because I love it here, and I don't want my BFF to leave Africa as long as she's still enjoying her work.
All this is a very long-winded way of saying that it's possible to feel like your home exists in more than one place, and with multiple people whose paths don't intersect very often.
And the sad tradeoff of that is that no matter where you are or who you're with, a part of you is probably always going to feel at least a little homesick.
My head is in the future,
My heart is in the past, and
My body is a tug-of-war rope between them.
Non c'è niente di artistico in questa foto.