Little Things

I miss the little things.

I miss the Parnell’s French Market every Sunday where Hudson and Ale would stuff their faces with maple bacon cronuts.

I miss ravishing through a bag of lime plantain chips with Kiana in the cloud forest.

I miss the green apple juice and salads from Off White and Avocado.

I miss Borough Market, English breakfasts, and tea time.

I miss the convenience of Naked Cake, the milkshakes from Flipping Burger, and the to-die-for hot chocolate from the fancy cafe after ice skating.

I miss salep from the teashop, the Mexican restaurant’s attempt at guacamole, and almond croissants from the French bakery before going to the medical school for bio.

I miss lavender and orange gelato from the witch place and vegan almond from Eduardo’s.

By little things, I guess I subconsciously meant food.

I also miss football, which I’m reminded of by the notifications I still get to this day for the Auckland Domain.

I also miss the fresh air from the Pacuare.

I also miss the walk into the city from Monastraki to Syntagma.

I also miss seeing plaid everywhere while strolling down the streets of Edinburgh.

I also miss taking the pendeltag to Gamla Stan, the Christmas market, and ice skating in the park.

I also miss the easy navigation with the single tramline going through the town.

I even miss the beautiful warm, yet slightly bipolar weather.

I don’t miss the long school days.

I don’t miss the sickness of the jungle.

I don’t miss the packed metros.

I don’t miss the purple room made out for 15 girls.

I don’t miss the darkness or the wind of Nacka.

I don’t miss the giant strawberry landmark.

I don’t miss the American university students or the crowd surrounding the Duomo.

But each of these memories added to the experience and made me appreciate the little things.

I miss the imperfectness.

I will never stop missing my everyday life in my temporary homes.

#2016