"Mitchell, By the time you read this, you'll be leaving England. At the time of writing, you've been here almost two weeks. It's been a good two weeks. Hopefully the experiences you've had complete overshadow everything that's happened so far though. So I'll write what I hope happens:
Make friends in every class
Have a good exchange weekend
Spend Christmas with new people
Spend New Year's somewhere awesome
As you know, I'm not much for setting goals. But remember the reasons you came on this trip in the first place:
Always wanted to study abroad
Make new friends
Leave home
Forcefully eject self from 'shell'
I think so far that I am satisfied with the trip - but I hope you are able to look back at this year and say without doubt that it was best year of your life. [editor's note: so far...]
It was a beautiful early spring day, and after three hours of purgatory class, I walked down to my favorite park and watched the sun set over Worcester. The sky was clear, or at least, clear by English standards; what clouds that remained were bathed in pink and orange light as the sun made its slow plummet towards the horizon between the Malverns and the Cathedral. I was reminded of the last time I had watched - really watched - a sunset: August 29th, 2012. That night I had driven out to one of my favorite places to watch the night fall, for less than 12 hours later I would be leaving for Duluth, and everything would change.
See, I wasn't used to change. In my eyes, I haven't changed since like middle school. I mean, once I discovered the Beatles and got my first computer, the stage was pretty much set for everything that came after. Even most of my clothes are 4+ years old. But the thing you have to realize about change is that it has a nasty habit of sneaking up on you...
Wednesday: Educating the Human Brain, followed by Social Constructions of Britain
Thursday: No class
Friday: Biology (all morning)
The whole "having to sit in class for more than one hour" thing is really throwing me off, but I think I'll live.
Anyway, I was sitting in Tuesday afternoon geography listening to the lecturer talk about what makes a place. "Place" as a concept here - a "place" could be your seat at the dining room table just as much as your home town is a "place." He showed us pictures of some of his favorite places, and asked us to think about what some of our favorite places are. I thought about mine:
Duluth, Minnesota
My basement at home
The bike trails back home
All of sudden, it hit me. Harder than anything I had felt on this trip so far.
I was homesick.
I missed Netflix on the worn couches in my basement. I missed the exertion of biking up and down hills. And I missed waking up near the awe-inspiring majesty of Lake Superior.
The feeling soon passed, but I was left considering how "home" had changed over the last year and a half.
Last year, as myself and hundreds of other freshmen settled in to college life, I would occasionally hear someone refer to their dorm or floor as "home." And this was always weird to me. I mean, yeah, it kind of was - it's where we slept and kept our junk. But to me, it was never "home." My room here has a much stronger claim to the term - considering I have my own bathroom and kitchen, and I have to do my own shopping and everything - but it still isn't "home."
Home to me is still the place where I grew up, all the way back across the Atlantic. I know this will eventually change, and that it's starting to change already. But they don't call it "homesick" for nothing.
