There is a weird mood I get into sometimes, but it’s only ever on Sundays. It’s the “lazy day, don’t have very much to do and there’s nothing on Netflix I want to watch” mood. I remember getting in this mood ever since I was little when they would usually happen during the summer after a long weekend of lying about. I would go outside and wander, usually up some tree. These moods are a whole different thing now that I’m abroad. They make me miss those days of hanging out in trees, but also days spent in College Library huddled with friends trying to finish your work for the week to come. But these days now also make me realize that in six months when I’m lying around my apartment in Madison I’m going to miss my lazy Sundays here.
So, I now get torn between missing home and feeling like I’m home all at the same time. I think this is a feeling a lot of us are starting to have. My friend got stuck in Scotland today for an extra twelve hours or so (apparently the flight she booked didn’t actually exist, go figure). I was texting her, trying to distract her from the annoyance that is sitting in an airport for hours on end. All she wanted to do was be back in London. It feels like home and where we’re supposed to be. Something just feels right about being here. I’m reassured of this every time we come from a weekend trip and I’m beyond ecstatic to get on the tube to head home. To be fair, it’s hard not to fall in love with being here. I live in a hundred year old house across from Hyde Park in a city I’ve always had a soft spot for, I take classes four times a week and get to learn from people who have a passion for what they’re doing and I get to see things I’ve dreamed about since I was a kid. I don’t think I could ask for much more. When people reference these days as the best of your life, I’m pretty sure this is what they’re talking about. And this is what I try to remember when I get in these funny Sunday moods.
Still, there is a strange tug-of-war when you start feeling at home in a place where you have little to no roots. My friends and family are in the States (well most), that’s where my roots are. In Madison and Minneapolis. But that’s not where I am or where my head or my heart are. So, these funny Sunday moods will continue to happen I imagine when I have time to reflect on all of this. Instead of finding a tree, chances are I’ll FaceTime with family and friends and then go take a walk in Hyde Park. To me, that’s the best of both my separate worlds.
I’m pretty big on quotes, so I thought I would sign off with two, in case you’re still confused and have no idea what I’m trying to say. Excuse the cheesiness. The first one is from a song called “Cats and Dogs” one of my favorite bands, The Head and the Heart, “My roots have grown but I don’t know where they are.” The second is by Miriam Adeney who I honestly knew nothing about because I found the quote on Pinterest, but apparently she’s a professor and author. Anyways, it describes this situation pretty well, “You will never be completely at home again, because part of your heart always will be elsewhere. That is the price you pay for the richness of loving and knowing people in more than one place.” I think this can apply to loving and knowing more than one place as well. So, I’ll continue to pay the price because I’m pretty sure that price is worth it.