But in a good way. I try to convince everyone I'm tough, however I'm sure anyone who knows me knows I'm a big old softie. This is nowhere more apparent than when I watch the opening and closing Olympic ceremonies. I missed the Beijing opening ceremonies because I was returning home after a long day of apartment hunting in Bellingham, but I caught the closing ceremonies this evening and I must admit to tearing up.
Part of it might be that, despite my degree in international politics, my political motto can best be expressed "Can't we all just get along?" The Olympics seem to have the same motto, albeit more eloquently expressed. So seeing all the athletes enjoying themselves after accomplishing so much makes me a little misty (although not too misty not to notice that the Ralph Lauren Polo emblem took up a third of team USA's shirts. Nice.). But I nearly broke down into real sobs when the big, red London bus made its appearance to promote the 2012 Summer Olympics in London. Sometimes I forget how seriously I miss London and England and how intense my homesickness for that place can still be, especially as autumn draws near and I start thoughts with "Nine years ago today I was in . . . " I so want to go back.
Whilst watching the London presentation for the 2012 games, my heart actually started to hurt. I am not exaggerating. Does that sound insane to you? Because I sometimes question my sanity when I think back about how much I loved it there. Would it be committing treason to say I felt like I belonged in London more than any other place I have lived? Is it totally naive to think that I do belong there? Am I just waxing nostalgic and looking at the whole experience through rose-colored glasses? Is it crazy to feel more at home in a foreign country than in m own? These are questions I ask myself on a regular basis. All because, when I see a red, double-decker bus I start to cry.