Where did the time go?

“Where did the time go?” I keep asking myself, now that I’m back to my original routine of waking up at the peak of dawn to the beep of my alarm. Sat on the bus travelling back into work after what feels like a pretty short break. With a book in one hand, I’m unable to concentrate. I’m too busy reminiscing over the two weeks that passed me by with a blink of an eye. I had many wonderful experiences in sunny California, basking under the sun in what I’ve always known as the coldest month and being rebellious against winter wearing short-sleeved tops. 

It’s fair to say didn’t miss the damp British weather. I knew all too well what to expect when I’d get back, though that thought was always quickly brushed off every time I stepped into the sunlight. 

Arriving back at Heathrow I was greeted by the chilliest breeze like it was almost saying welcome home. I feel like I never left the country, except for the fact that I’m very much jet-lagged, my sleep has some catching up to do since it’s still 8 hours behind and my phone is filled with images of bigger buildings and wider spaces. I left the country wearing a thick cardigan, I’ve returned with a coat, scarf and gloves. Despite feeling the holiday blues and the cold welcome, I am happy to be back. Oh, how I’ve missed my bed.

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