I've always been one to adjust quickly. People have said me to be a chameleon - not sure if that's a compliment or not. I've also been told I don't have a personality of my own, but that I take on the character of those around me; pretty sure that wasn't a compliment, but it is motivation to choose my friends wisely I suppose. As a child, I flew back and forth between two different families that were, in many ways, opposite worlds. I learned to adapt. My mother often commented to me that I came back from my father's house a different person than I was when I had left.
When I go somewhere new, whether it's to Girls' Camp for a week or to visit family for the summer, I throw myself into it. Wherever I've just been is still important to me, obviously, but it's no longer the focus of my attention. Tears of sorrow I had shed at parting are all but forgotten. I know it sounds harsh. Though I still deeply care for those I left behind, my new environment becomes my focus - I love pretty much anywhere I am.
Recently, though, things have seemed to change. Over the summer the old norm didn't hold true - sure I loved being in England, and loved the people there, but I missed my old life like crazy. Slowly I got more used to where I was, but I held tightly onto the memories of Utah and my old home. My old roommates, my old friends, a familiar environment. I played the music we used to listen to, sang the songs we wrote together, called/e-mailed sporadically, and talked of them constantly. I couldn't wait to come back.
The summer ended and I returned to Utah, thrilled to see my roommates again and return to school and my old job at the Creamery. But I went through withdrawals - as my roommates can attest to - I missed England. I played the music I had listened to all summer, e-mailed Hannah and Charlie constantly, and spoke of Stonehenge non-stop. And though I'm happy here, I can't help but miss England still. I miss Hannah, Charlie, my parents, Stonehenge and all the people I worked with.
I'm pathetic.
