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I type this as I travel to the airport. I’m going home. I feel horrid. At least I think I do.

The feeling has snuck up on me slowly. Three weeks away is a long time but never long enough. Or too long? I’m still unsure. All I know is that I always, without fail, hate the final day and that there is no fighting that feeling, no matter how hard I try. And sadly, that knowledge sometimes seeps away at the rest of those weeks.

On Friday I felt it as a longing; homesickness. I missed my bed and my bath, my sheets and my sofa, the choice of my clothes in my wardrobe, the views from my window. Even my car. I knew today was coming and I couldn’t escape it. I wanted to fast forward. Impossible.

At the weekend I wanted to wish that feeling away. I pushed it to the back of my mind and sunk my feet into the sand whilst secretly counting days. I savoured those remaining few moments. The final this, the last that.

Then yesterday it really hit. I hate it.

I woke this morning with it there on my mind. When the flight is late in the day it is always worse. Each final day has taught me to fear it a little more.

Three weeks is a long time to get lost.

I always travel home in my make-up and dressed for life at home, never flip flops. I try to remember who I was when I left; how I felt, what I wore, the outward journey. I try to prepare.

And then the airport. Can there a more transient space? And yet a sea of strangers sit, wait. A pause before something else; something new or something familiar. It seems to be something so strange. Anxiety always finds me here because I cannot quite place myself. I guess that’s why they make you carry your passport.

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The following morning the face in the mirror seems strange: too dark skin and a fuzzy brow. The radio plays an unfamiliar song as piece by piece the the house becomes reanimated. I try to reconnect. I pull on half forgotten clothes and drink water straight from the tap. I try to place myself.

Three weeks is a long time. Long enough to forget. It will a few days to find my feet here. Probably longer.

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