After four months of crisscrossing through Europe, drinking entirely too much beer with Irish rascals and doing that whole “study abroad” thing (in other words drinking with locals from every stop on the map) I thought I had seen it all. I got my hands dirty in all the cultures, and by hands dirty I really mean fighting off the dirty paws of creepy European men.
I came back with souvenirs from Italy, stories about London clubs and a new seasoned outlook on life itself. When I returned to campus, however, I unknowingly returned a different person. I entered a fate I would never have expected.
I was homesick for Dublin.
That first night I was in the middle of my apartment, surrounded by my best friends and take-out from my favorite restaurant in Tuscaloosa, yet I had never felt so strained to force myself to like my college campus. I missed Dublin so bad, it felt like heartbreak. That first night I faked exhaustion so my friends would leave, tossed out the take out and crawled into a bed that suddenly felt more foreign than the Dublin cobblestone streets ever did.
I suffered from an inescapable case of the blues and I hated myself for missing a place I couldn’t return to easily. I hated that I was so sad over something I should have solely felt fondly nostalgic for. While I was jetting around hungover and taking in the 7 wonders of the world, I had morphed into the kind of girl that can’t stop inserting her study abroad experiences into every conversation (with people who rather talk about anything else).
For the first few months back, I could only think about Dublin. It consumed me in the most unhealthy way and it caused me to resent Tuscaloosa. I was so caught up with my own love affair with Dublin, I was completely wasting what was left of my junior year.
By the time I surfaced out from under my Dublin obsessed haze, it became clear that you can miss a place to the point where you cause yourself to miss out on the current place and time. While Rounders may not be the London nightclub in the meatpacking district, it was still fun and definitely a lot cleaner. And while Depalma’s may not taste as good as that pasta from that little cafe in Rome, you really can’t mess up carbs and sauce regardless where you are on the map. While Dublin may have been the current love of my life, Tuscaloosa had been the first love.
Yesterday was the anniversary of the day I made the best decision of my life, got on a plane and began the most unreal four months of my life so far. Yesterday was also the first last home game of my college career. I don’t want to waste any more of my numbered days missing a place I know I’ll return to one day. Besides, I’m sure next year when I’m graduated, I’ll be mourning the loss of my Tuscaloosa home and I’ll need memories to occupy myself with.
Photos courtesy of the author, Kalie Drago