Don't Blink.

Life couldn’t be better after a month back in the States. I live five minutes from the beach, I love my waitressing job, I've seen concerts with my friends, and I am now a published writer in the magazine “South Shore Living”. I began my internship there three days after landing back in Boston; but after five months of blogging, I knew I had nothing to worry about. 

I tell anyone who will listen about my travels through Europe. Yes—Post Traumatic Study Abroad Disorder is a thing and yes you will experience it when you are back in the States. It feels so odd not to be taking off on a tiny Ryanair plane every weekend to go explore a new destination. It feels even more weird not to be able to go walk down to Shop Street in Galway and listen to the buskers and street performers whenever I’d like. I miss the store Penny’s like you wouldn’t believe. It was the most incredible place in the entire world; the best clothes and accessories and shoes and home goods you could find for the best price. It was like T.J. Maxx but with the prices of… well half the price (there’s rumors it is coming to Boston)!

I miss the Irish people. I miss how friendly and welcome I felt wherever I went. I miss the music in Taffes and hearing the song Galway Girl played at least once a night despite the band’s protests. I miss The Front Door, the only pub where you would find just as many Americans as Irish, and I miss Irish Set dancing at Monroe’s on Tuesday night. I miss the market every weekend and the delicious doughnuts made by Boychick. I miss sitting in my bedroom watching Friends on Netflix and listening to the rain spatter against the windows.  I have been home a month now and the nostalgia hit me probably on day three and still has yet to go away.

The last week I was in Ireland I could not wait to get home. I knew that once I was home I would want to turn right back around to the little green island. But still, I couldn’t wait to see my family and my dog and be in a queen sized bed again FINALLY (twin beds don’t work too well when you’re 5’10”) and have sunny days more than two days in a row. I couldn’t wait to be home. But, after those three days I realized that I know had two homes. I had my home in Plymouth, MA in the USA, and I had a home where I spent five months of my life learning and growing more than I have in my entire collegiate career. I know Galway like the back of my hand. It only takes getting lost once at 7:30 in the morning after trying to walk back from the immigration office to learn that all the major roads will eventually lead you to downtown. Shop Street was as familiar to me as downtown Plymouth and I have lived here for all 21 years of my life. No matter where I travelled during my time abroad, Galway was still the place I couldn’t wait to return home to. Galway was my home.

I have been home for forty days now. Forty days from the day I landed in Ireland was about Valentine’s Day. Forty days after I landed in Ireland I was in the country of Belgium exploring a new place, a new culture, and plenty of chocolate and waffles. Finn, my director, had told me that once Valentine’s Day came around my time in Galway would fly by so fast that before I knew it I would be home again. Well, I am home again. I am sitting in my queen sized bed in my air conditioned house. It’s raining outside; the droplets are spattering against my window. If I close my eyes I am right back in Galway in Gort na Coiribe apartment 109. I know that as soon as I blink, I will once again be back in the States. Don’t blink.