On Homesickness

Today I was caught off guard by the first wave of homesickness I've felt since moving to London in September. I've been thinking about summer a lot, and looking forward to spending some time in Philly. But I also know that after about a week I'll be missing London tons, thinking every day of how I can't wait to get back here. I guess that's the problem with feeling settled in too many different places-- no matter where you are you're always homesick for somewhere else.

It's a familiar feeling, having first joined me when I started going to overnight summer camps as a kid. I went to two, and my experiences at each continue to be a huge part of who I am. Both felt like home to me. I spent the other parts of my year missing them, and my time at each missing the other, and sometimes missing home. Not that these nostalgic feelings took away from my experiences, just that they always seemed to be slipping around in the back of my mind somewhere.

The more experiences I have, the more places I'm aching to call home. I frequently daydream about India. I miss the mountains in a way I've never missed of nature before. I miss how colorful it was and the people who were my family those three months. It's a strange feeling, knowing that I will never get those exact feelings back. I hope I will return to India some day, but my situation will be so distant from what it was.

It's stranger still feeling that I'm past the point of knowing where to call home. Just floating I guess, which isn't so bad. I like being in the in-between.