I feel like one of those people on TV that has a rain cloud hovering over his/her head: between the hail storm in September when I tried to fly over, and the snow and ice in Kansas right before I left (which was the first real snow this winter), to the blizzard in Atlanta—my connection to get to DC enroute to London—bad weather has been following me around when I travel; I just can’t shake it off.
My original plan had been to fly to DC and spend a day at Georgetown before flying to London. When Atlanta’s airport (which I hate even in good weather) closed for several days, my flight to DC was pushed back four times. I went to the airport, checked in, went through security, waited at the gate, and then they cancelled the flight, making a trip to Georgetown impossible. In order to make my flight to London, my mom and I had to find a new ticket with a different airline to get to DC in time. So I flew early the next morning to Denver, then to DC, and finally to London.
I’ve mentioned before my three homes, and this trip back to England has in a way touched upon each of them. That my break at home could be a hybrid of all three of those places really excited me—what could be better than that?
When I was packing my backpack before flying, I was digging through my front pocket and stumbled across my keys to Oxford and my British phone. It was the weirdest feeling of suddenly remembering I live another life, if that makes sense. One would think that would be obvious, when I was packing to go back to England in the first place. But I always have this problem of feeling like I am going to a vague somewhere; it’s hard for me to conceptualize the actual destination. I knew I was going back to Oxford, to my life here, but it took the keys and phone, like portkeys, to transport me back to a vivid consciousness of my friends, my dorm, the spires of Oxford, the streets, the trains, the accents, the food. Suddenly I became ready and excited, anticipating an exhausting return that admittedly had me wishing the keys and phone were more than just metaphorical portkeys.
I had such a wonderful break at home, one of the very best I can remember. This will be my longest time away from not only home but the USA itself: six months. Having a functioning laptop will make keeping in touch with my family and friends back home exponentially easier, I think. It feels so liberating to be sitting in my room, as opposed to the computer lab, to be typing this. My last post has more detail concerning my love for my primary of the three homes, sweet Kansas. Saying goodbye to my family was much harder than usual this time—six months really does sound like a long time.
My third and final home feels, however, quite neglected. Georgetown has been the place where I grew up, came into my own, met some of my very best friends in the world. It was probably the riskiest decision of my life to show up at a university I had never seen with my luggage in hand, with a feeling of rightness guiding me (I suppose technically the same could be said of Oxford—but I’ll spend a more significant chunk of time at Georgetown, and it was scarier the first time around). Georgetown got me, slowly but surely: Healy Hall awed me immediately, my classes made me feel alive (stressed, of course, but engaged), the dining hall was originally appealing (that quickly wore off), the people were interesting, the library lovable in its profound ugliness. I can remember climbing the Village A rooftops for the first time, kayaking down the Potomac, eating my first Georgetown cupcake, walking around the bookshelves of Riggs, my first mass at Dahlgren. The list could go on and on.
When my mom suggested me visiting Georgetown for a day on my way to London, I was ecstatic. I’d be able to see so many of my friends, eat my favorite food, have my breath catch when I walked through the front gates and saw Healy once more, trip down the cobblestone streets as I always do, just soak up all that I love about Georgetown. I thought that if I had my Georgetown fix, I’d be able to wait until next August to see my third home again at long last. I did have a reservation that seeing it again would make my homesickness for Georgetown more intense, more poignant, more alive. But having experienced the alternative, in not seeing it, I must say my homesickness for it is still quite strong. I hope my friends know how hard it is for me, despite how much I love Oxford, to not see them for months and months. I hope that in some small way, Georgetown can know how much I miss it. In the end, I sat at the Dulles airport waiting for my flight, eating Potbelly’s, and saw an ad for Georgetown University on the TV. It was the closest I’ve been to my home in quite some time now, but it felt like God reminding me that it’s still there, ready to welcome me back next year.
To end on a good note, however, Oxford has thoroughly won me over as well. I’m so content to be here, I feel like I have so much good in store for myself this year. I’ll drag you along for the hopefully many wonderful adventures in my remaining time here.
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