Friends far from home

As you probably figured, I’m Cecilya. Yes, just Cecilya, no last names here.

This is the part where I’m supposed to tell you about me, but here it doesn’t work like that.

I’ll tell you a few things, and you’ll get to form your opinion of me. Kind of like a puzzle, but there’s no right or wrong, so enjoy building. This is your first piece:

Friends far from home

Brazil, United States, France, Spain, Netherlands, Greece, etc., I can safely say that I’ve travelled a bit. I love traveling, especially because of the people I get to meet. Ironically, I also hate traveling because of the people I get to meet. In Brazil, I have some of my closest and long-time friends that understand the culture I come from and are waiting with open arms for me to return home. In Spain and Austria, I have some friends that know so well, even though we’ve barely seen each other. In the United States, I have people who I know will support me through anything. The same applies to Australia, Turkey, Netherlands, Italy, Argentina and several other countries. Sounds amazing, no? Well, it isn’t. As much as I know I can call or text any of these people at any moment, sometimes that’s not enough. Sometimes all I need is a hug from that person in Spain, to talk to someone in the US, or even a night out with a half Aussie. These things sound so simple, but they aren’t because I’m 8761.06 km away from Brazil, 11099.82 km from Argentina and 2027.28 km from Turkey. But when will I ever go to France again? Or the Netherlands? What are the chances that they can come to me? I know that whenever I see them again, it’s going to be wonderful, but for now, I’m left with the wanderlust.

My friends are a little bit far from my home, which doesn’t make home feel much like home. Many people seem to think that home is a house or apartment in the street of a city, but home isn’t anything other than someone giving you a reason to stay. I have many reasons to stay in many places, which makes me lucky yet unlucky because I didn’t stay in any of them.

I think that things would be different if my friends weren’t so far from my home, but then seeing them wouldn’t be as special. My friend in Argentina gave me something of hers, and she said: “you can give me it back next time, this way we have a reason to see each other again”. I know I’ll visit her sometime, I might not know the exact date, but I know I will. This is the thing with friends that are far away, the kilometers of distance are nothing compared to the minutes spent texting or calling. And one day, you’ll stop counting those and count the days left to see them from years to months, to days all the way to hours and minutes.