The disease

I know why it is called homesickness. It’s because like a cold or the flu, the only time you forget that you’re sick is in your sleep. Otherwise, you are tormented. Whatever you do, it runs you down. It exhausts you. It presses on your chest, you can feel it in all your bones. Your stomach is constantly tight. Yet thankfully there is a cure. My medicine is going home. I am done with my French life. I’m fed up with Josette, I miss my sisters, I miss Kimballs, I miss playing golf and riding my bike, I miss the family I babysit for, I miss TJMaxx, I miss signs in English, I miss cooking. I was listening to Tom Petty while writing a paper, and I started whimpering - in a month I will be with Greg at a Tom Petty concert. It’s difficult because I see the end. I have two papers to write and an exam, and then I’m done. It’s just like the end of the year at Holy Cross. The weather is gorgeous, you just want study period to end, pack up and go home. There is one thing that separates you and your family. Time.