Welcome to America

I am currently writing this to you all from the airport in Boston while I wait for my flight to Detroit.

In 5 hours I will be landing in my home city where I will be met by my mom and Leona (the pug).

When I arrived at the airport in Boston, I was greeted by a TSA agent who gave me a high five and said “welcome back home!”

Initially, I felt so happy to be in America again, but after about five minutes his words felt like a slap in the face.

There was a point during my trip where I wanted nothing more than to return home and see familiar faces. I wanted to be in a place that felt like home to me.

Now that the day is here, I wish I was sitting on a canal in Utrecht or laying on a beach somewhere in Malta. Or basically anywhere outside of this airport.

I have extended this trip three different times and I would extend it longer if I could. I’d be lying if I said I didn’t look up flights to other countries.

Luckily, my dwindling bank account talked me out of it.

Don’t get me wrong, I am so excited to see everyone that I’ve missed, but I think a part of me will always want to go back.

Over the past seven months I have visited seven countries, seen the sunset 200 times, flown in 10 airplanes, drank at least 100 bottles of wine, met thousands of people, and made countless memories in the process.

I would not change a single thing.

This little chapter of my life has been so transforming and personal for me, and I feel that if I share more with my readers I would be giving away a part of myself.

So I will end with this:

If you are thinking about dropping everything and seeking out something greater for yourself, do it.

It took me way too long to get the nerve to travel on my own but I finally did it. And I will do it again, and again, and again.

See you soon, Michigan.

Until next time, Europe.