It’s at about this time every year that I get horribly nostalgic. Facebook and Instagram are flooded with those “remember what you were doing X years ago” posts—all photos from my time studying abroad in Oxford, England, three years ago. It’s not so much wanderlust that compels me to be mopey and stare at my Oxford photos for an hour at this time of the year; it’s missing the quotidien of living in another place, the same melancholy I get thinking about Kentucky now that I’m in Minnesota. It’s missing eating Nando’s at least once a week, going to lectures in beautifully old stone buildings crawling with ivy, hot chocolate and millionaire’s shortbread from Caffé Nero, the Marston footpath being flooded from the relentless rain, and waiting for my creative writing tutorial on a bench beside the river.
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