I lived in the US for 18 months, day by day, thinking this moment would take longer to come, that it was in a very distant future. But it’s here. It’s time to pack and go home. And those are two scary – for lack of a better word – things to do. I’m not a great shopper, and I really don’t mind getting rid of things (if it’s not my books) so I shouldn’t have had problems. But it turns out a year and a half made me have a lot of absolutely necessary stuff.
I’m trying to be cool about all this, but each drawer emptied is like a Pandora box of surprises and memories (like the winter boots that are so warm and cute and I have no idea when I’m going to see snow again! Not to mention how the heck I’m going to fit them in my suitcase?). Now I look at my (ex) room and it’s so empty, impersonal, ready for the new AuPair to take her place.
I do my chores thinking it`s only one more week to go and then I`m not an AuPair anymore. I`m just Ana. One more week… and I`ll miss these wonderful kids so much!
I came here to find myself. Yeah, that`s a damn ambitious thing to do in 18 months. I thought I could figure everything out and go back home absolutely sure of who I am and what I`ll do. Guess what? That`s not how life works. I lost myself in lazyness and fun. But also in great trips and friendships. It was worthy. I allowed myself to have the time of my life.
I don`t even need to mention how much I grew mature and independent. Stronger, but in some ways, more sensitive. Being away messed my heart up!
As I try not to think too much of how I`m going to miss the friends I made, the lifestyle I got so used to and try not to feel that going home is a step back in my life, I go in practical mode, researching – jobs, universities, opportunities. I think about my book, about seeing my family and old friends. I think, think, think and I wish there was a little button to switch it off.