Diagnosis: Homesickness

So I arrived in Cadiz a few days ago. And it would be fair (and an understatement) to say that the days have been a little rough. Maybe it's because I'd been in denial about leaving. Maybe it's because I had so little time at home. Or maybe it's just because I get homesick. Plain and simple.

Whatever the reason, I am here and missing home, and didn't really expect it so much this time around. As my dad says, "Homesickness is a transient, short-lived illness, best treated by exploring your new environment and making new friends. It can be recurrent, but definitely lessens in severity over time."

Fortunately, reliving the first full day here and the first phone call to my mom provides for some pretty good entertainment now. It was, in her words, "frantic." My fears were irrational, my mother couldn't get a word in edge-wise, and the tears just wouldn't stop. This is our favorite part of the conversation:

Me: But, Mom, I live on the ninth floor!
Mom: Well that's oftentimes how city-living is, Allie.
Me: But it's the ninth! And there's a WINDOW...
Mom: So there'll be a breeze...
Me: But it opens!
Mom: You don't want it open?
Me: There's no screen! And we're nine stories up.
Mom: So...what exactly are you concerned about? Someone getting in?
Me: NO. We're NINE stories up. No one can get in.
Mom: Hmm...

These are the kind of fears I construe when I am excessively stressed and tired. If you're confused, so am I. Because, honestly, it makes no sense.