There’s something about being far from home for a long
period of time which stretches the emotions. Some days it hurts. It’s a kind of
aching that tugs at you whenever you think of places you miss going and the
people you love. Other days you’re fairly indifferent. Not that you stop
missing home, just that it doesn’t occur to you as much to do so. The strangest
thing is how quickly you can jump from one emotion to the next. You’ll be
flying high experiencing something truly incredible, but all it takes is the thought
of one person back home with whom you’d long to share that moment with and suddenly
it has become somewhat bittersweet. Now that I’m getting closer and closer to
my departure date (three days to be exact), I’m starting to worry about missing
the UK. I know that I will. I’ll miss Chester itself with the beautiful walls
and the River Dee, taking a train on the weekend to somewhere I’ve always
dreamed of going, the history, architecture, the people I’ve met, and the
friendships I’ve created. I find it amazing that we, as a human race, are so
quick to miss what we don’t have and waste what’s in front of us.
I think people discover different things on their
journeys abroad. For some, they rarely miss home, the itch to travel is
never-ending, and they fall head over heels for some other place in the world.
These people may not be meant to go home, or at least, to stay there. They were
born for adventure and to start a life in a new place, be it near or far from
where they were raised. They thrive in a place very different to that which
they grew up in. For others, it may be more of a “Wizard of Oz” experience. No
matter how far they go, no matter what they experience or see, there truly is
“no place like home”. Anyone who knows me will know that I’ve always identified
with the latter. I was surprised, though, by how often people would tell me I
would fall in love with England, maybe one of their men, and never come back. Perhaps
they were mostly joking, yet that happens to people, doesn’t it? And some truly
seemed to think I was destined for this outcome. I do love England. I love my
adventure and I love being here, and the thought of returning home is mixed
with feelings of anxiety and sadness as much as those of excitement. There’s so
much yet to do and see, and I don’t know if I’ll ever get to come back,
although I desperately hope I do. I came on this journey and I’ve learned,
seen, experienced, explored, and discovered a great many things, but now it is
time for me to take those things back home and use them on a new adventure.
It’s time now to go home. I belong in a city not too small and not too big, I
belong where the people have watched me grow and learn since I was a small
child, I belong in a community that knows me more than I know myself. I don’t know
where the future will take me, and it may be very far away from Billings,
Montana, but, at least for now, that is where I belong.
I am so thankful to the friends I’ve made, for the
places I’ve gone, and for the memories I have. My time abroad has ended and there
is so much more in store for me, but I will never forget these past five
months. Now I pray that as I return home I will cherish every moment. I will
use whatever it is that I’ve gained on my journey to glorify the one who made
it possible, and I pray that someday, He will allow me to come back. For now,
it’s time to make the most of my last three days, tying off the ends of my
amazing adventure, before I start a new one back home.
