I unapologetically miss being abroad. I often hesitate to talk about it because I don’t want any of the people in the states to take it as an insult or that I need to move on. The beauty of the situation is that I have moved on and I am being productive, having fun, and enjoying being home again. Yet, there is this often dormant yet urgent feeling inside of me to not be here. To be anywhere than Evansville, anywhere than America.
Of course I miss the lack of responsibility that I had. I miss the people. I miss the food, the pace of life, and the amazing architecture that I saw on a daily basis. The world is totally different on the other side and I think that I crave their way of life.
At first, I thought that I just missed being so carefree. I have never felt like I totally belonged in American culture, even before I went abroad. It’s like something wasn’t right and I couldn’t put my finger on it.
As I look at (a rare occurrence) the photos of me abroad I miss the girl who had a cheesy grin on her face and a twinkle in her eye. I miss the strength that I found in Europe. It is extremely easy to put aside the person that you become once you step back on your home country’s soil. I remember seeing the American flags on the screen at O’hare and being surrounded by English speakers once again. Every voice around me was speaking English. The airport personnel was yelling at me in English. Everything was so foreign yet familiar all at the same time. I was in more shock coming home than going abroad, which is something I can say with absolute certainty.
My point to all of this is that we aren’t always meant to be where we are born. I know that moving across the world is not something that many people do who I know. I have no idea what my future will hold, but I can say that there is a pretty solid chance that I will move abroad at some point. I may return to the United States at some point, but I know for certain that I want to spend some of my years in a different country.
To my eyes, Europe was drenched with color. Once I returned home, a weird grey has followed me ever since, jading the eyes in which I see the world. The grey, buried in the back of my mind, still hasn’t left me. No matter how many friends I have here, how many amazing times I have had since I have been back, there is still a tinge of grey to it all.