Time after time

The time difference is the one of the most difficult things about being over here. It’s difficult waking up and knowing everyone at home is still sleeping. I don’t want to go to bed when in the USA people are just sitting down to dinner.

Last year, I flew into Philly for Easter. My grandparents picked me up and took me to their house. This year, I said goodbye to Caitlin, and Julia arrived by train from France. Late that night, as I was going to bed, my family ate Easter dinner, and on Sunday when I was eating lunch, they were just waking up to start their days. It didn’t feel like a holiday to me, partially because my family was not participating in my activities, not even at the same time.

Time is a funny thing. The same second, a different hour, night and day at the same moment colliding. While not the hardest, it’s my least favorite thing about being away. We all have our routines, and in the morning, I like to wake up, have a cup of coffee, and check my email. I want to putter around my room, get dressed, and take my time. I do not like to be rushed. While I do all this here in London, everyone in the USA is still sound asleep. It’s usually only 5 or 6AM, and I am leaving for class.

Figuring out when to speak with people can be difficult. By the time my parents get home from work or my brother’s lacrosse game is over, I am in bed. My friends at PITT are just going out to start their Saturday nights and I’ve been to the pub, am home, and in my PJs.

Right now, it’s 11PM, my downtime for the day. It’s dark out, not too many stars due to the clouds that constantly hang over London. At home, it’s 6PM. My mom just got home from work- she’s making dinner. It’s probably still light out, just getting chilly for the night. Same moment, yet a completely different time.

Strange.