Coon creek beach cave, California on Flickr.
England is not America. This is an obvious statement, but it bears repeating sometimes. However, we speak the same language, and I have been told repeatedly by separate individuals that I fit in here superbly. Although I have only been here for three weeks, I concur with their observation. This feels like the country of my soul’s origins (however, I have not been to Ireland yet, and I may have to change that statement after I visit there).
Everyone keeps asking me if I’m homesick, and I reply honestly that I’m not. There is nowhere I’d rather be than here. But I am friendsick—I wish I could pay for tickets for certain people to hop on planes and join me over here. I have made (and am making) wonderful relationships with fantastic people from far-away lands, and I am certainly not lacking in good, fulfilling companionship. But I will never take for granted the company of those with whom I share inside jokes and deep connections. There is so much here that I wish I could wonder at and explore with the people who are my companions for most of the year. Summer is both a beautiful and a cruel time, because, while I am free (typically) from the constraints of school and schedule, I am separated from the friends who I enjoy spending time with the most. But I suppose long separations make for the best reunions. August will be a marvelous month.
The Golden Horn at Galatea in Constantinople, now modern-day Istanbul.
Photograph by Jules Gervais Courtellemont, National Geographic
Friends gather around a summer campfire at Great Point Lighthouse on Nantucket Island, Massachusetts, June 1970.
Photograph by James L. Stanfield, National Geographic