The Art of Homesickness

theartofhomesickness(Part 4 of the Europe Collection.)

The first time it hits you

You’re lying in bed and everything is quiet

And there’s something you feel that’s missing.

If you see a familiar sight,

It’s bittersweet in your gut.

Your family calls you–where they are

It’s 4 in the afternoon

But you’ve just woken up.

It’s the little things that rub on you

Like when the computer is in a different language

When the electric sockets are not what you’re used to

(Round holes instead of slits? Are you kidding me)

When the sun sets past your normal bedtime

And nothing, not even the faces you’ve known since first grade,

can make you feel really comfortable

So the least you can do is wrap yourself in the malong

that used to belong to your grandmother.

This is a strange place

But you’ll miss it when you leave

So stop griping and live in the moment

The world is bigger and you’re a part of it

So why feel uncomfortable?

After all, if you never forget where you came from

You won’t find it hard to come back

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