Coming (back) to America

The sun has set on our European adventures and it’s time to claim back our homeland as, well, home.

Goodbye, Europe. Sigh. Taken in Flumicino Airport, Rome, Italy (Photo courtesy of Sal)

Goodbye, Europe. Sigh.
Taken in Flumicino Airport, Rome, Italy (Photo courtesy of Sal)

For now, we’ve parked our suitcases in the Northern Virginia / Washington, D.C. area while we prepare for a cross-country road trip to Palo Alto, California.  I fill my days catching up on 4 years of family gossip, eating Mexican food like a starved cat, and watching the leaves change in my Appalachian mountains.

I buy a “no contract” cell phone (AKA drug dealer phone) and call my friends and family with reckless abandon.  Although we’re still different time zones, at least calling Mom in California doesn’t cost me a kidney.

“How are you adjusting?  Are you ‘American’ yet?” Mom wants to know.

Culture shock in your own country?  It can happen, people.  I’ve developed a hypersensitivity to the flickering visual crack that is American television.  And the hours of car time – I’ve no tolerance for it.  In the 4 years I lived in London, I have seen the inside of a car only a handful of times.  I made up all that lost time my first day back in the U.S.A.  Give me the tubes at 17:30 in London anytime over D.C. rush-hour traffic!

And don’t get me started on the food portion sizes in restaurants.

“I don’t know,” I finally answer her.  “Ask me again in a few weeks.”

Maybe 3,500 miles of American highways, roadside diner food, and a few doses of Mello Yellow will get those red, white, and blue juices flowing again.

O great, wide country of possibilities and hamburgers!



2 responses to “Coming (back) to America

  1. Gilee, I appreciate how you worded and expressed your feelings on coming back to the country. I hope that some time in the future our paths will cross again.

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