on feeling at home

How do you feel at home, when you're 250 miles away from your cat and your bed and your view?
Michaelmas term is drawing to a close, next saturday I make the 5 hour trek up north with my boxes and bags and a heart of pride and a brain of exhaustion.
But this feels like home.
And, for me, that is quite remarkable.
To achieve this peace in a room that isn't mine, in a city where I initially knew no one...
I filled my room with things that reminded me of summer, of warmth, postcards of places I'd been, ones I collected, Photo Booth strips, books I'll never have time to read.
I spent my final pay check on special bedding and decorative mugs and nice cushions because those things make me feel at ease.
I spent hours in my room in the early evening, when the sun streams in and caresses the wall with an ethereal glow.
I wandered the streets at sunset and found my way on runs and took myself on journeys around the libraries and the cafes, with my books and my laptop, getting a sense of my favourite places.
I spoke to my friends about how I felt, whilst we spent hours sitting in my room drinking tea and eating chocolate and marvelling at our lives.
I explored the things I'd saved on intsa, treating the city like I was a tourist, allowing me to marvel at its beauty. I explored the colleges and the botanic gardens and the museums.
I had people come to stay, a remarkable number considering how far I am from home. My brother, my mum, my friend, to show them this is where I live.
I said yes to everything. I scrolled through facebook endlessly to find a talk or a concert or a class to fill my already limited time, to create shared memories and an experience wider than the words of the Reformation .
I created a routine and ensured each day was filled with fun, alongside the endless hours of reading.
I think, more than anything, I was ready. I took my time, spent a year alone with my self and my thoughts and my hurt, and soothed it and my brain was finally ready to take the challenge.

****
So thats it! Michaelmas is almost over, I've survived. This morning is an unfamiliar luxury, and yesterday was bliss. My friends are great, I adore the hours we spend making risotto and laughing and drinking tea and ranting about boys we don't care about (but sort of do!) and, fuck me this degree is hard but its great. I am happy.
I can't wait to get home and have the hours to write and bake and think and read, but I also really don't want to leave this world which is like no other.