Home is where, now?

F.A. Shout out to my Buffalo Girls

Luggage wheels are clicking over tiles, and high heels clack against the floor. I watch as people stroll, purposefully walk, or stand and wonder exactly how their lives are changing as I sit and reflect over how life-altering my time has been. I'm trying to relax on smooth airport chairs, really benches with arm-rests, clicking away at keys on my computer. My bags are checked, my passport verified and all I can do now for the next couple hours is wait, impatiently, for the plane to take me home. And now, that word confuses me. In six months I have made another city my home. I almost slipped the other day in speech, trying to call Dortmund that--home. But I know that without the people that made it so amazing, Dortmund is just another city. Emptier than I remember, slightly lonelier. Despite all of that, it will always be a welcome sight for sore eyes to me. Honestly, these last six months have been amazing, probably the best of my life so far. I can't thank the people I met enough, or be more grateful to my parents and, yes, myself for the opportunity to come here and enjoy Dortmund, Germany, Europe. It's still very surreal.

And now I'm going home, the one in Marion, Iowa. In about 15 hours, I'll be in my house with wood floor creaking beneath my feet and four wide gold and green eyes glowing up at me from the floor, both whining for the attention they've been craving for six months. I will touch things as if discovering them for the first time--worn-wooden countertops, concrete floor leading me to the cool basement, fabric stretched over frame with cushions made to offer me comfort, paper bound together to read and enjoy, clothes hanging loosely from plastic hangers, fresh sheets thrown over my mattress, the soft fur of my two cats lying across my legs and their purrs rumbling out as my fingers scratch their backs, chins, heads. My fingers will caress these things, committing them to memory again and inviting their sweet essence back into my life. Later, I will smile too much as I see all of my friends in person again for the first time and greet them with too-long hugs. They will ask how my trip was, without really understanding that it wasn't just a trip, implying something of a vacation--short and relaxing. It was life, here in Germany. Because of the gap between us, I will only answer, "Amazing." Mouths will show teeth and then the subject will move to, "What did you do? What did you see?" My tongue will stumble over words, none of them understanding the random German ones leaving my lips, or the jokes I've created with the people here, their eyebrows cocked questioningly. And I will laugh at myself, smoothing the tension from my forehead, trying to convey everything, but never really getting it right. Then, the world will expect me to move on, as I will expect from myself, since it should be that easy. But nothing is ever that easy.