This is very odd. My return flight from London landed bang on time at 7:30 PM last night. As luck would have it, Eddie had just touched down from South Carolina and walked over to my arrival area just as I was walking out. I was glad to see him and we had so much to talk about on the cab ride home.
I was feeling a little rough after the long flight. I developed a touch of the flu the night before I left London that worsened by the following morning. I tried to rest and relax on the plane, but of course, that is often easier said than done. Still, my euphoria kept me going and I gave my cats a hug and started setting my dusty and hairball filled apartment to rights. In so many respects, it is good to be back. There’s just one problem.
It doesn’t feel right. I wonder if this will start to wear off with the passing of the days, and as my jetlag subsides, but something has changed and I can’t quite put my finger on it. I have always said that Chicago is the greatest City in the world, and in many respects it is. But there’s now a competitor on the board for me, and I connected with London so very deeply that it really did at times feel like I was exactly where I am supposed to be.
Can you feel homesick for a place in which you have only spent four days? A town where you were not born, but maybe feel you should have been? Because in thinking more about my Westminster meltdown, the feeling I come away with is one of deja vu, as if I have been there before, and if not, than at least the mothership was pulling me in with her tractor beam.