I’ve tried—and failed—to write this multiple times now, so perhaps it’s time to face facts: I’m homesick and a little bit lonely. There. I said it.

I knew that it would take me some time to really realize that I’m in another country, in a different time zone, surrounded by a different language. Different parts of this multifaceted reality hit at different times. French hit me in the face before I even stepped onto the tarmac; the timezone sunk in as I texted friends and family… and had to do math to know when to reasonably expect a response. But the reality of being away from home, from friends and family, pounced last week. 

I’d known it was stalking me, but Switzerland looks just enough like the Willamette Valley that I was able to ignore it, fend it off. But last week, as I was listening to country music-— “Country Roads, Take Me Home,” specifically—it hit me. I’m far away. And I’m going to stay that way for quite a long time.

I haven’t really missed home in a long time—but I also haven’t been at home for a long time. This summer was the first time since I graduated from high school that I lived with my parents for more than Christmas break, and while it was hard in some ways (because I’d gotten used to doing what I wanted, when I wanted), it was also really fun. I got to go on trips, watch movies, take part in Friday night pizza night—just laughing at and with people that I love. 

And so, like that first summer away from home, I went into withdrawal again. 

This post isn’t particularly long because there isn’t that much to say. I’m having a good time, but I miss people my age. I miss having a travel buddy to create trashy, very niche memes with about our experiences there. I miss English, spoken with native speakers. I miss my family. I miss my friends. 

I just miss home—both with my parents and at Fox. And I’m looking forward to France (I leave for France next week!), but France means school. 

This whole experience is so cool, but there are moments where I pause—and just miss. Europe is cool, but it isn’t home.

(Even if some of those churches feel pretty darn close.)