Approaching the End

I remember being at Disneyland when I was a kid, and thinking to myself 'This is fun now, but by this time tomorrow I'll be in school again.' I'm not sure where, how, or why I picked up this habit, but it's always on my mind- where will I be in 24 hours exactly? 48? It's with this sort of unpleasant buzz-kill mentality that I've been counting down my time left here in Italy. Today it's been a pretty monotonous response in my head, since the answer to the question is going to be "on a plane," but I can't tell if that makes it easier or worse.

Sometimes when I think about going home, I think about what I want to do first: go to Target, go to the library, see my cats, eat Mexican food... and I know that when I get there these will all be comforting to me. I think about seeing movies in theaters, in English, and of getting coffee at Starbucks whenever I feel like it. Of being with my family, of navigating around town in my car, of knowing exactly where I am and understanding the language being spoken.

For better or for worse, I'm going back to normal.

While I'm doing all these things, in the back of my mind I'll be thinking 'This time last week I was laying on the beach reading Little Women for the first time,' or 'This time last week I was sitting down to the family dinner of pasta while watching cheesy Italian game shows.' Unfortunately, the game works both ways.

I had a mental breakdown before leaving Boise to go to Germany, and I had another when I left Germany to go to Italy. At the moment, I am not exactly breaking down... but instead sitting in a sort of melancholy stupor, too tired to panic.

24 hours from now I will be on a plane somewhere over the Eastern United States. 48 hours from now, I will have a fresh haircut and be heading to the fair. 72 hours from now I will be at church. 96 hours from now I will be babysitting, etc. etc. etc.

Back to life as usual.