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Finally at home?

So, after two weeks of quarantine, I’m finally at home. Not much as been going on since I got back to America. It felt timeless during self-quarantine, and it still does. My parents are glad to see me, but my sister? Not so much. She was able to use my room as a storage room while I was away, and now that I’m back, she has to clear everything out and she’s grumpy about it. She also took my bed and a few other things from my room because she didn’t want to buy a new one to replace her old one. To be honest, even though she appears grumpy, I’m sure she’s glad to have me back to bother her.

Despite being happy that I got to see my family, I’m still sad about this entire situation. I can’t see my friends because of quarantine. I can’t go out because of quarantine. I can’t do the things I wanted to do when I got back to America because of quarantine. It feels stifling.

It feels strange to be back home. I know it’s home, but I’ve gotten so used to my roommate being just a few feet away from me and the company of my friends. When I really think about it, maybe it feels strange to me because everything that has happened the last few months feels like a dream. Maybe it’s because my good-byes with the people I’ve met and my study abroad country were too short.

I don’t know what it is, but I wish I could go back and complete my full year abroad. There’s so much to do – so much to fix – because my year abroad was cancelled. Hopefully all goes well these next few weeks and I get everything sorted out so I can finally get settled.

To end this post, here’s a picture of what I came back to:

That is not a bed. That’s a bed box (because my sister stole my bed) with blankets piled on top. What a sad image.

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