Afterthoughts

First, the title:
I considered others such as "La Fin" and "Epilogue". But those carry strong connotations of finality - there is no completion here. Everyday I discover feel the effects of my term abroad, find them everywhere, be it in my spelling, my sentence constructions, my speaking, my thinking... like afterthoughts, which never cede the opportunity to strike.

The blog:
Forgive me the liberties I took throughout this blog. I wrote creatively to keep myself interested. A few white lies, omission (or inclusion) of pedestrian activities. The increasingly unforgivable length of posts. The limits of my vocabulary (both in terms of extent and constraint). Pictures can only tell where I've been, this blog reminds me what I've done.

And the afterthoughts:
I don't quite miss France properly yet. In a way, I feel like I'm on vacation. I'm in the suburbs, not the city. I don't yet miss walking past boulangeries, patisseries, and crêperies. Every sign in French, every conversation. Where will go to speak French at whim?

It was nice to drive my car again. Then I looked at gas prices for the first time yesterday.

It's great to see old friends and my family again.
It's horrible to not know if I'll ever see new ones again.

The variety of clothes once again at my disposal is marvelous. The luxurious softness of socks that have traveled through the drier is unmatched.

The traffic light crossing man jars me in his switch from the green of Europe to the white of the States.

Which way do doors open again? I keep making a fool of myself.

It took me a while to determine what was so different about my return to the USA, in looks alone. It's the trees. The trees were so obviously different upon arriving in France. Now, back to normal.

Bagels. Green money. Peanut butter and jelly. Free water in restaurants.

My narrow bed confines me. I miss my double, and its duvet. I miss my host family and their dog.

The clink of overhead lights illuminating.

But where's the reverse culture shock? I'm not overwhelmed by sorrow. I accept that my sojourn to France reached its end. I'm already moving on. And while nostalgia has not set in quite yet, I already cherish the memories, hold them fondly, treasure them.

Which leaves me with just this: how to say goodbye?

Adieu? So definite.
Salut? Ciao? Too light.
A tout alors? A denial of importance.
Au revoir? I can do better.



A bientôt.