When I wasn't looking

Today, I am in the midst of planning last minute details for my final trip of the quarter while trying to ignore my headache from too little sleep and the unfinished sociology paper I have due the day after I return. I have another casual weekend trip to a not-so-casual destination (this time it's Paris!), and while I am extremely excited to see another city that I once only dreamed about, this trip solidifies the fact that my study abroad experience is almost over. One week from today my roommate will be packing up her things to leave, and two weeks from today, I myself will be getting ready to ship out.

The other day I had a beautiful moment of gratitude and nostalgia, but not regarding things from home. I was walking home from having dinner with a friend and in the dusk of the evening during a moment of relative quiet, I was taken back to my first week here - when the streets seemed loud and crowded, when I found something new every day as I walked to and from school, when the sun would set before 7pm. All these things that somehow changed when I wasn't looking. This wasn't just a repeat of the "meta" experience that I had earlier this quarter - it wasn't just that now I don't get lost or that I know where to find such item - it was rather a feeling of attachment to this place and a sense of sadness that it has now (almost) come and gone.

I still miss plenty of things from home and as much as I have tried to make this place my home, a part of me has held back, knowing there will be a time that I will return to normalcy and so there is no need to fully give in. As it gets closer and closer to the end of my trip, I have begun to think more frequently of home. It makes it hard not to miss things that are familiar and safe so I was actually a bit surprised when I was struck with such a deep sense of sadness of leaving this foreign place. Maybe I have become a little bit more than just a student studying abroad...