Every once in a while I get homesick. I used to say it wasn’t the country I missed, just the people in it, my mother, my brother, my sisters, their children, and the friends I left behind. But more so lately, I’m missing the country as well. I miss simple things like walking to the corner store, or to the doctors office, getting the train or riding the bus home from town on a wet and windy day.
I miss the architecture, the cobble stone streets, the old cathedrals and the sprawling green countryside, dotted with ancient artifacts. I miss the seaside towns with their old carousels and piers lined with visitors holding their raincoats close to their bodies, but still enjoying their 99’s with flakes and strawberry sauce!
I don’t think I’ll ever live in England again, but I’ll enjoy every visit. I’ll go wherever Curtis goes for work, and England sadly pays their fire fighters pennies, the public servants in general, are treated pretty poorly in comparison to here. Wherever I am with Curtis and the kids, I’m home.