Coming home from a trip is always hard. Getting back into your normal routine, having the same conversations about the same topics that didn’t seem to change while you were away with the same people. Before your trip you didn’t notice it at all but something happened while you were away. Maybe a shift? Maybe a new perspective? It’s hard to pinpoint but you can feel it.

Your attention span is smaller and you find yourself drifting back to that place you just were days or weeks ago. My way of coping is with distractions; Whether it’s running, baking, reading, meeting up with a new or old friend for coffee or lunch, binge watching my favorite shows I’m behind on, driving around the city playing my music way too loud… But not really feeling the feelings because it’s too soon.

Is it dramatic of me to say that coming home from a trip is a little like mourning?

Hear me out.

I’m mourning the adventure of a lifetime. I’m mourning the wake up calls, the feeling of adrenaline that comes with the great unknown and always, ALWAYS having someone right beside me when I need to talk (or, sometimes even more importantly, not talk).

When I get caught up in these sometimes overwhelming feelings of loss and sadness though I remember how lucky I am that I can just pick up my phone and text or call one of my Dream Team members and reminisce or meet up because I know they’re going exactly what I’m going through. What we experienced together was not only incredible, it was really f*cking hard (sorry, Mom). There’s no way we didn’t all change on that mountain. We all left a piece of ourselves at the summit of Mount Kilimanjaro and I’m more than okay with that.

Alright, enough of that.

Coming home is also really wonderful. The feeling I had after travelling for what felt like FOREVER and seeing my family with their homemade signs standing at the train station was indescribable. I’m super lucky to have a family unit that’s incredibly close and we’re used to seeing each other at LEAST once a week so it’s not shocking that the reunion was an emotional one and a moment I’ll never forget.

The next night we had a little celebration for my sister’s 30th birthday, which was the day before, and I THINK I was there. 😉 Lots of stories and squeezes from some of my favorite people later, I passed out on the couch on my mom’s lap like I did when I was a kid and had the best nap of my life.

Damn, it’s good to be home.

– Vicky

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