I never thought I would miss the United States as much as I did. I was burning in my stomach all day sitting on the trains taking me to Heathrow. I was desperate for an American accent in my airport terminal chair. I wanted some stoplights, some Arby’s, some window-tinted Escalades with subwoofers, some tacky Christmas lights. I wanted it all; and it was simply the haunting desire for familiarity. When we leave, this is when we value the concept of Home. Home: a place you throw your stuff, a place where you can drink from the milk carton, a place where you write sticky notes for errands, a place where you avoid talking about things but sometimes get to it. It’s home, a place that we must leave, but to which we will spend the rest of our lives trying to return.
I am here for two weeks, and we’ll see if it’s long enough.