I’ve gotten to this point on my trip where I feel bored. Don’t get me wrong, I’m loving my time here. There’s something about wandering the labyrinth of the markets, sipping mint tea on a quiet street corner, or looking up at the painting ceilings of a timeless church that makes me reflect on how lucky I’ve been. But as entertaining as it is being here, I’m finding myself focusing on going home.
Encinitas, California. The flower capital of the world, a hotspot for iced coffee, an endless paradise with amazing sunsets. Home. I’ll be there in five days. I’ll be with my family again. It has been six months since I’ve seen my family. I’ll only be home for two weeks, before going back to Egypt. But I’m so excited. I want to cuddle my dog and hug my family. I want to write poems on the beach while my best friend paints the sunset. I want to see my three tiny baby cousins and kiss their little cheeks.
I feel like I’m just passing time here. I try to enjoy it as much as I can but my mind is still too preoccupied. I’m not thinking of what part of the city I’ll venture off to tomorrow or which museum I’ll explore. I just can’t wait to get home. I miss my family.
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