Greet we then our Mother

I have been missing Europe a lot this fall. It comes in waves- the one year anniversary of when we left for Florence in September (my good friend posted on Facebook this gem of entry: "a year ago today I was leaving for Italy. Today a man threw-up on me at work"- he works with severe Alzheimer patients), when my family visited me (every one of you reminded me!), on Thanksgiving (which is ironic because I was so homesick in Paris on Thanksgiving I became physically sick), and then on the 1 year anniversary of me coming home. I could not figure out why I have been so homesick for Europe this past week. One of the happiest moments of my life was landing in Chicago's airport and sending out a mass text to pretty much everyone I know telling them I was state-side. When I finally finished a hellish week of finals (plus everything else that happened to me last week which is a blog in itself), I picked up Holly and drove the hour-long drive home which is incredibly shorter than the 10 hour flight just to get to Chicago from Paris. When Holly and I watched Love Actually later that evening, it hit me. The introductory scene and the ending scene is a montage of people hugging each other at an airport. That was it. I gave my study abroad friends fair warning that I was going to cry at the airport. Sixteen hours of traveling and all the emotions of coming home and leaving the people who had been my family for three months was more than I could calmly handle. Seeing my mom at the airport was a feeling I had never experience before. I could not have been happier. After claiming my over stuffed bags, I said good-bye to my friends as calmly as I could. One of my best friends looked at me and just said, "Go home, before you cry." I did. Pulling into the driveway last December with a sign all lighted up just for me, I felt home. After living out of a suitcase (literally- there wasn't ever enough room to actually unpack), constantly traveling here and there (which don't get me wrong was amazing!), and fending for yourself in countries where they laughed at Americans for even trying to speak the native language, I felt like a nomad. I was finally home. In this past year, I've forgotten how good that felt. Don't get me wrong; I am a happy person and I still do love coming home. It's just that, coming home last year was the happiest moment of my life. That moment will forever define pure bliss.