It may or may not have to do with the 80+ photos of my summer adventures there that currently hang from sticky-tack on my wall less than 10 inches from my pillow.
But the truth is I think about Europe often. Almost daily, actually. It's difficult to differentiate the origin of my desires to return there. In some aspects it's truly the location. The beauty and wonder I experienced each day as I walked the streets of Spain, France, Germany, Austria, Switzerland, and Italy are some things I will never forget. Directly to my right at this moment is a picture of Darcie and me standing on the edge of the Adriatic Sea right outside Venice. A couple photos to the left is one of David, Mandy, and me on the edge of Lake Thun in front of the Swiss Alps. A few spaces away from that picture is my view from the Piazzale Michelangelo as the sun set. I miss the landscapes and the geographical location itself.
Maybe another reason my heart yearns to return is because I miss the relationships from there. Whether it's the roommate situation of Abby, Darcie, Kayla, and me or the Elite Eight or my connection with Mandy or the experience of the group as a whole, I don't know. But right next to me is the entire group picture from outside the restaurant our last night in Rome. To its right is a photo of a few of us exploring the gardens of Versailles. Not far is one of my favorite captured memories of seven of us girls throwing our coins into the Trevi Fountain. Yes, almost all the people from the trip are still at Milligan, but it's just different. No longer are we forced to spend our time together. No longer are we limited to just 39 other friends to spread our time between. Our relationships seem to be moving apart just like the days on the calendar from when we landed back in the States.
Or maybe what I'm missing is the constant adventure. I can see the picture of me in the middle of a grove of giant trees I stumbled upon in Madrid as I was searching for an amusement park. I see the photo of me getting kissed on the cheek by Romeo, my handsome Italian man. Looking up I notice the picture of a group of us on a boat meandering our way down the Rhine River observing more than the dozen castles we passed. Each day was different. Each day was a step into the magical unknown.
I'm assuming it's a mixture of each of those things that makes me want to return to the continent that has made its way into my heart. But whatever it is, it's a hard feeling to ignore. There are times when I'm tempted to spontaneously buy a ticket and spend a few days there. Some days all I want to do is go back.
But sometimes I don't. Because I'm afraid my guess that it won't be the same will be confirmed. I'm afraid that in a different context with different people in a different situation will cause the European magic to disappear. And that, my friends, would be a great tragedy.
