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The thing about coming back to the United States after leaving for so long is that it never feels like you’ve left. New buildings may be erected, people may have gotten fat and your best friend may have moved to a different state, but America is still America no matter how long it misses you. I’m in the midst of moving, figuring out who I like and discovering that my beer options here certainly exceed those in Spain. I’m finding that clothes I bought in the 7th grade fit me again and that the bulk of my possessions is clothing. I am exhausted in a way that I’m ignoring and I’m starving for someone else to cook me food. All I want is to sit in a car and drive down highway 40 at night with my nose pressed against the window or hanging out of it. I want to spend time alone or with one person only. I feel socially inadequate, completely unable to carry on any sort of decipherable conversation. Yes, I’m back, but I’m not all there.
