So it's after midnight and I'm staring at my suitcase across the room. There are some things I've bought, some gifts, clothes, etc., piled around it. I've spent today gathering up all the bits of my life that I've scattered across the house as I've been home this Christmas. The random sock, the phone charger... these are the things that get forgotten.
Even more difficult is picking up the scattered emotions of a whirlwind trip. The 5 second moments that you brushed off but now think about at 2am when you're chatting to Mr. Insomnia. The hugs you didn't give your nephew, the harsh words you said to your mom, the smiles you accepted but didn't understand; these things also have been swept into a pile in my mind marked "sort out later"...
Already London comes knocking with emails and coffee dates and appointments and to-do lists--transatlantic living is like trying to mix oil and water. I want it to be oil and balsamic, so at least it tastes better.
The funny thing is I can never fit everything in my suitcase on the way back to London. There are always items sent later, for weight limits must be met. Take the essentials. I don't even know what that means sometimes. I want to stuff it all in and just drag my suitcase through the train stations bumping people out of my way. Talk about burdens. But just like my Christmas presents, I need to decide which memories I'm going to discard and regift and pack away to rethink in London, staring at my ceiling at 2am, wide awake, chatting to Mr. Jetlag.
I really need some sleep.
Even more difficult is picking up the scattered emotions of a whirlwind trip. The 5 second moments that you brushed off but now think about at 2am when you're chatting to Mr. Insomnia. The hugs you didn't give your nephew, the harsh words you said to your mom, the smiles you accepted but didn't understand; these things also have been swept into a pile in my mind marked "sort out later"...
Already London comes knocking with emails and coffee dates and appointments and to-do lists--transatlantic living is like trying to mix oil and water. I want it to be oil and balsamic, so at least it tastes better.
The funny thing is I can never fit everything in my suitcase on the way back to London. There are always items sent later, for weight limits must be met. Take the essentials. I don't even know what that means sometimes. I want to stuff it all in and just drag my suitcase through the train stations bumping people out of my way. Talk about burdens. But just like my Christmas presents, I need to decide which memories I'm going to discard and regift and pack away to rethink in London, staring at my ceiling at 2am, wide awake, chatting to Mr. Jetlag.
I really need some sleep.
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