Well, as of today, I’ve been here, Seoul, South Korea, right by Wangsimni Station, for five months.
They told me I’d get homesick around the fourth month. I didn’t believe them, but I mentally prepped for it as best I could anyway. When the fourth month hit, though, I knew I’d won. I felt fantastic, missing home, yeah, but still enjoying life here like crazy.
Ah, I spoke too soon. Midway through the fourth month, this past month for me, it started to hit, harder. Nothing drastic, really, but I felt that tug from home.
I want to get back, eat a meal with my family, hang out with my old friends, join the fun of fall, maybe with another trip to Gatlinburg. I still love my stay in Korea, but the novelty has worn off. I still have adventures to tackle, but the excitement of newness has blown over.
It’s about to get cold. It’s about to get long. It’s about to get lonely.
Maybe.
Or maybe it won’t. I’ll buy a jacket for myself and drinks for my friends. We’ll bundle up and settle down at a table where we’ve talked for hours in the past. We’ll eat something strange. We’ll laugh with our mouths full.
And then in three years I’ll look back, and be homesick for here.
