First, I want to apologise for not updating my blog sooner.
I’ve gone back to uni and things have been proper hectic… but, that’s a post for another time.
Today marks one year since I first stepped off a plane in the most beautiful city in the world… London.
I miss England more than I could ever put into words. Since coming back to the States in June, I have had many ups and downs, good days and bad days. But the one thing that keeps me going is knowing that I have found my forever home and made forever friends there.
Not a day goes by that I don’t think of the copious pigeons bobbing around on the streets, the crowded Underground stations, and the voices of the beautiful people I’ve come to know.
The person I am today has been greatly impacted by achieving the dreams of the person I was a year ago.
I’ve been thinking about that quite a bit this past week. It’s a weird thing really to feel like you’re homesick when technically you are “home.” But, that’s the thing… home is not something that can be universally defined. People might try to tell you where home is “supposed” to be… whatever that means. Don’t feel like you have to listen to them.
For me, home means a couple of different things.
Home is wherever you feel comfortable exploring who you are, or who you want to be.
Home is wherever you feel your heart beat a bit faster when you realise there’s a part of it you haven’t seen yet.
Home is wherever you find yourself fighting back tears as it disappears in your rearview mirror.
Home is wherever you want it to be.
So, England don’t ever change, man. I’ll be home before you know it.