Today, I sit in my living room typing on a frustratingly new computer. I can see cars speeding by, watch runners on their daily route, and wait for one of my five roommates to come home. I sit and write today because yesterday it’s December 1st. Which means I haven’t set foot in the UK in a year. Here I am, a year after leaving the most altering experience of my life. I need to write down all the thoughts running through my head.
If I had one more day in Bath, I know how I would spend it. Roll out of my white duvet and throw some shoes on, tell Savannah I’ll be back. Rush down the street, through the park, to the pasty shop. Come back and eat it on the couch, windows all open and crappy British TV on.
Walk around Royal Victoria Park.
Lie in the grass outside the Royal Crescent.
Dizzy myself in the prayer labyrinth.
Sit and listen to the Pulteney rush into the Weir.
Eat Hoii Fan for dinner and get a 2 for 1 dessert at the Lamb and Lion.
Bother Elenita for some more toilet paper.
Hike the hill up to the classroom.
Strain my arms with grocery bags.
Chase the sunset all the way up to Alexandra.
Watch the city light up the night sky.
I will never be able to describe how deeply I miss it all. The people, the places, the freedom. We were the guinea pigs, the first group to try out a study abroad program in Bath and nothing could have been better. We all needed it. I fell in love with England, and that will never stop.