Well, I’m back. And it only took the longest plane ride I’ve had in quite a while. Preparation for my flight to Milan in September, perhaps? After waiting for a security line in which there was only one border control officer stamping passports, I made it into America and saw my parents.
Luckily they weren’t holding the O’Brien sign this time
Arriving is the same. Arriving feels like I’ve never left. I walk down the streets of the neighborhood I’ve lived in my whole life—the first time I left was for university—and forget the time away. I forget the damp in my student house and the relentless grey of English skies.
But it’s not all that easy. I wish it was. There’s jet lag. There’s the wait-I-actually-live-with-my-parents-again realization. There’s the American thing. And this time there’s the stunning revelation that I won’t need to be in England for a year and a half. I can’t pretend like this doesn’t make me want to cry and read copious amounts of Bill Bryson.
That’s not what I did, however. I can’t wallow. There are somethings that I’ve learnt I’m quite bad at doing, no matter how great they sound. Like watching movies in bed, sun bathing and going out to Lizard Lounge, again.
So, when I woke up at 5:30 am on Saturday morning, I let myself stay up and read Paris, I Love you but you’re Bringing me Down. I tried to quietly roll out my yoga mat and roll through a few downward dogs whilst maneuvering around my suitcase. I even snuck into the kitchen to have a glass of water and early-morning snack. It was an uneventful morning, but I couldn’t have taken anything more exciting.
The last couple days have continued in the same sphere of calmness. I’m going about my days, remembering what it’s like to be at home, in more ways than one. You don’t only have to adapt to being in New York, you have to adapt to living with your parents and to living in a house that’s not a student house.
Though I can’t say that I’m too fussed about that forced adaptation.
The thing is, and I’ve alluded to this many times, my living situation was less-than-ideal. I lived with a medic, who I was friends with, two aerospace engineers of varying degrees of tolerability and a biologist and ex friend. It certainly made for some interesting conversation. Or rather, lack there of.
I’ve thought a lot about what I’ll take away from that living experience. Will it be to always remind the taxi driver of the cross streets that your house is on? Will it be to always wash up your dishes directly after eating? Will it be to smile and not get annoyed when people don’t reciprocate? Yes to all of that, but there’s also something a bit more profound.
And I don’t know what that is.
I thought about it over Greenland. I thought about it in my bed at home. I even thought about it whilst running from my room to the kitchen to fetch yet another bin bag. There’s something that I’ve learnt, but I’m still much too tied up in the experience to know what it is.
So I’ll get back to you. Our contract runs up in a week. In a week I won’t have a house in England. Right now, however, I need to get adapted to life in New York, to life in the summer, to life as an intern.
And I’m pretty darn happy that I get to be both here and there.
How was your weekend? Anything inspiring happen? Anything boring occur?