Scared To Go Back
After almost five years of living abroad, I will be heading home to the United States, and if I am completely honest, I am terrified to return. When I tell people this, the responses I get vary depending on their background. Some assume my apprehension comes from a fear of losing the sense of “safety” found in my Spanish town. Some presume I am afraid of coming back to a world of “real responsibilities”. Both of these sentiments are problematic in some regard, they are not the biggest reason I am afraid of going back. The truth is more complicated than that.
I think it should be stated that by the time I step foot back on Georgia soil, exactly 1,706 days will have passed since I hugged my parents. It hurts my brain just thinking of how long that is and how much has and will happen in my life. Since I was a girl, I have wanted to see the world. I did everything I could to fulfill my dreams of leaving my hometown and living somewhere else. My parents were always in disagreement over my leaving. My mother encouraged me to spread my wings; to this day she calls me her bird. She did not want me to be trapped the way she felt she was. My older sister was a major supporter as well, and always encouraged me to never look back when it came to my dreams. My father was not of the same sentiment. He did not see the point of leaving, when in…
