Coming Back Home

I’ve come back home! I’ve actually been home for a week but it has taken me some time to digest what that really means. After flying home last Sunday I needed a few days to adjust (back?) to my life here, to figure out how I feel about moving away from Bloomsbury and back home to a place that has seemed very distant while I was in London, a home in my periphery; It was still there, but just out of sight and out of my reach.

After London, the whole town seems so quiet and sleepy, it feels almost disturbingly boring, I have to admit, and the long rows of similar looking terrace houses look so tiny, like doll’s houses and the streets are eerily spacious and less frequented by driving cars, at least compared to streets such as Euston Road and Tottenham Court Road.

The weirdest thing about coming home has been the experience that it hasn’t really been as weird as I expected it to be! Most things feels strangely normal, exactly the same as I left them. I’m slowly easing back into my old habits and ways of thinking. In a way this is scary, almost as if I never left at all. But I know I left and I know that I am a different person now. London has become a part of me, English has become something more to me than a foreign language and the confidence of that old, strong city has slowly seeped into me.

But of course it isn’t just me that have changed but also the visible landscape around me. We have gotten a new neighbor next door that I didn’t know about, my parents have picked out a few new pieces of furniture for the house and worst of all, the old chestnut tree right outside my window was sadly chopped down after one of those awful storms in October. But in general everything else feels surprisingly familiar. Like hanging out at my favourite café in town with my three best friends here in Denmark like we used to do, picking those same signature dishes and talking excitedly about exactly the same things. It’s like time for us at least haven’t passed at all!

I don’t know why this is such a strange thing but after having my life turned upside down last September when I moved and growing with the challenge of being an exchange student and a migrant, I had expected everything to seem or feel different because I am different. It is both disturbing and comforting to realize that everything feels so recognizable. I suppose it means that I have finally, successfully blended my two worlds together so that there no longer seem to be a boundary between them. I will always feel like I belong here, in my old town in Denmark but it doesn’t make me feel like I belong any less to London. And it is totally okay that I miss talking in English and hearing the London accent, while I still love to speak, read and write my mother tongue. Who says you can’t have it all? *