I don't want to go home.
But I do want to go home. I'm conflicted.
This past week has been pretty much amazing. The weather has been perfect - blue skies, sun, warmth - I've finally reached that point where I can talk to anyone I want and not feel like an idiot. I finally got the CAF figured out (never mind that the social security still hasn't done a thing in 7 months). I'm not ready to go.
By this time last year, I was begging to leave China. I was counting down the days (all 100-something of them). I wanted to get the hell out of there, you have no idea. Of course, I also had France to look forward to at this point.
This year, I don't want to leave France, not when I'm so close. I finally feel really comfortable here, something I never really felt in China. I can go into a restaurant and order anything I want and answer the server's questions. I can apologize when we break two glasses in a span of five minutes (that's another story, one which just drives home how much fun France can be). I can go to the post office and ship packages home and explain things to the clerk. I can finally me débrouiller as well as I've always wanted. Unfortunately, se débrouiller doesn't translate very well into English, meaning, "manage myself." But I can and I do.
Why is it just when you get the hang of things, it's time to go? I'm really wishing I'd renewed for next year. Tant pis, though. There are other ways to get to France and if I still feel this way later on, I'll make it happen. For now, à bientôt, France.
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