I haven’t really been homesick since my fourth grade field trip. But lately, for some reason I can’t make out, I miss my home more than ever.

I miss my mom, and watching her in the kitchen, perfectly slicing vegetables for whatever masterpiece she’d be about to create for dinner.

I miss my dad and his weird ways, and how much more excited he gets about our dog than about us, but that’s okay because I miss our dog, too.

I miss my friends, being able to walk to their houses after dinner and watching Germany’s Next Top Model with their family, sipping way too sweet hot chocolate.

I miss the trees above our house and the lake nearby. I miss the smell of pretzels wafting from the restaurants as I walk my dog past them, trying my best not to let him snatch any food.

I really miss being able to spend hours and hours in the barn, riding and taking care of my horses, taking them on long trail rides until the sun sets and it gets chilly.

There are many things, however, that I don’t miss. I don’t miss the people I used to go to school with, their constant judgement and disapproval. I don’t miss the ugly, gray parts of Germany, and god, I don’t miss not having air conditioning in the summer.

I guess being homesick is something natural, and in a sense I like how much it connects you to home. But gosh, I wish it would just stop.