Amy's America

The strangest things are making me long for the US. Case in point: The Last Song. After I saw the movie (it was ok – book was much better; which is funny because I liked the movie Dear John better than the book, at least the end anyway), I exited the theatre into Leicester Square and made my way home through Trafalgar Square, wandering toward Big Ben and Westminster Abbey. Rather than the thrill I usually feel for getting to live in such an amazing city, I was struck by the thought that something’s terribly wrong – I’m in the wrong country. How did this happen? Where am I? What am I doing? I don’t belong here. I belong in the world I was just living in for the last two hours (107 minutes) where there are open roads, pick-up trucks, good music, plaid shirts and family – my family. For the longest time I thought that England could be home, but I’ve realised, oops, I mean realized I belong in America. Right there, on the dark streets of London, I had a mini-panic attack. Heart racing, short of breath, disoriented … then I saw him: Abraham Lincoln! Don’t worry, I wasn’t seeing things – it was just his statue in Parliament Square – but I immediately felt better. (He always has that affect on me.) I reminded myself that I DID have a reason to be here (work) and there are only about two months left before Nick and I move back to Massachusetts. But what then? Second mini-panic attack? No need, I have a plan: unpack, finish work, get Nick off to college and then: ROAD TRIP! And there will be plenty of open roads, pick-up trucks, good music, plaid shirts and family!

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