I am homesick. Not for my home of 20 years and eight months, but for my home of four months. One year ago, I left home in Wisconsin to move abroad. Four months later, I left home to move back home.
I always believed home wasn’t a place. My biological family, my church family, my two best friends – they were home. My supporting evidence was that I always felt comfortable with them. It was easy to joke together, to sit in silence together, to cry together. It didn’t matter where I was; if I had my family or my friends with me, it was going to be a good time. The physical location didn’t matter. In essence – and in the spirit of Thor: Ragnarok – home isn’t a place but a people.
Isn’t it?
One genuine connection can make you feel at home in an unfamiliar place.
I stumbled upon this quote on Pinterest while in my room in my host family’s house. I smiled, thinking how it fit my situation. Lüneburg was an unfamiliar city that quickly became familiar. Part of that familiarity came from the friends I made. I made genuine connections with people whom I didn’t even know existed prior to joining the program. I can easily say that I made closer friends with some of those students in one semester than I had in the five semesters of college previously (and not to say I haven’t made good friends in those semesters). When you spend almost every waking moment with the same group of people – in class, traveling, walking around the city, studying, grocery shopping – they become your family. So, I thought I found home in my friends abroad.
I didn’t experience as much homesickness as I thought I would. Sure, there were a few moments where I really wished I was home, where I didn’t have to balance the awkwardness of being a-guest-yet-not-a-guest in someone’s home or where I could curl up with my kitty when I was under the weather. FaceTime is a true gift that kept homesickness at bay.
If my first trip to Germany was any indication, I may have fallen in love with the country just a little bit, so I had mixed emotions about returning home. I would swing between excitement (I get to see my pets! My family! I can go to church! I finally get to have ranch dressing!) to dread (I don’t want to leave Lüneburg. I don’t want to leave my friends. It went too fast. I need more time). The closer the day of my return flight became, the less real leaving Germany felt.
After saying goodbye to my friends, stressing over canceled flights, and finally landing in Chicago, it hit me: I’m back in the States. And I don’t want to be.
Cut to reuniting with my parents and my brother and my dog is so excited that he won’t stop running in circles. All is great. But then I realize that the TV’s in English. The house looks the same... but it’s been four months. I’ve changed, but home hasn’t.
Then I crawl into my bed, where I slept so many a night but not since January, and it’s so much softer than my bed in Lüneburg and the pillow is a little too fluffy even though I used to use two before I left. As I try to fall asleep, I distinctly remember thinking, I’m home, but I don’t want to be. I think of Noah, who’s staying a week longer, and of Megan and Blake, who are staying for the summer sessions. I am insanely jealous.
The weekend is great; I see my best friends and family and it’s like I never left. We joke and laugh and exchange stories from the past four months. Being in church that Sunday is the best feeling; I think I missed that more than anything.
But then everyone goes back to their routines and responsibilities. My parents go to work; my brother and friends are still in school. I’m in a weird limbo. My family’s down a vehicle, so I sit at home. For a while, it’s okay. I unpack and clean my room and reorganize my closet. I do more sitting around. I write blog posts. I work out. I do the dishes. I get sick of sitting around. I wish for better public transportation, even though I complained about it while I had it. I wish Oak Creek had something that even slightly resembled Am Sande, because wandering around Am Sande doing nothing was infinitely better than sitting at home doing nothing.
Before this experience, I didn’t think it was possible to miss physical locations as much as you would miss a person. While abroad, I did miss my bedroom – the physical space; its mint walls, my bookshelves with all my knickknacks, my Spider-Man plush doll – more than I expected. But not in this way. I missed Germany and the places I had visited after my first trip, but this… this is different. This is homesickness.
You can’t predict what you’ll miss the most. I miss the small moments, the ones I wish I documented more. Going to Penny, a grocery store, after class with Colette, Heather, and Lindsay for Brötchen, schoko-croissants or a Ritter Sport chocolate bar. The walk from Am Sande to the Rotes Feld campus. My walk home from Hauptcampus (main campus). Dinner with my host family and speaking German with them. Taking the 5003 bus every single day. Speaking Denglisch (Deutsch and English). Going out to Hausbar and karaoke a few times. Eating lunch at Hauptcampus with most of USAC. Sitting in Building 16.
After studying abroad, I don’t know where home is anymore. Home has a bigger meaning. Home is still on Quincy Avenue in Oak Creek, Wisconsin but now it’s also on Am Eiskeller in Lüneburg, Germany. Even in my Google Maps, my host parents' address is still marked as Home; I can't bring myself to change it. I can no longer say that home is more about people than a physical location. Home is a self-made construct and its building blocks are memories. Lüneburg is home because of the memories I created and the experiences I enjoyed with the friends I made.
One night after being home for almost a month, I couldn’t fall asleep. I was thinking about Lüneburg and my friends. I missed everything so much that words failed, and tears streamed down my face. I wanted to go back; I wanted to go home. I dreamed about it. I still dream about it. Something that happens when you move abroad, into another culture that’s so different yet so similar.
Home is a self-made construct and its building blocks are memories.
I’ve traveled within the States a decent amount, but after each trip, I’m always ready to go home. I’ve never been ready to go home after my two trips to Europe. I don’t know why – maybe it's just the charm of Europe, or maybe I’m just crazy. I’ve also never moved before, save for moving 20 minutes away for college.
Part of traveling is getting so comfortable with unfamiliarity that it feels familiar. New feels comfortable. Humans adapt to new surroundings so easily. We fall into routines no matter what environment we’re in. That’s how we survive. That’s how we thrive.
I don’t know if I will ever feel completely at home, at home, in the States. Part of me will always think of Lüneburg as home. And I think that’s okay – it makes the world a little smaller.
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