t’s now been a month since I returned from France. I have spent the same amount of my summer at home as I did in Lyon – a fact that boggles my mind because this past month has crept by where my month in France flew.
However, leaving France means leaving behind breakfasts of fresh baguettes, bustling street markets, conversations with my host father, aimless walks through cobbled streets and alleys, and a group of students that though they come from the US, have backgrounds and opinions entirely different from my own.
As I prepare to go home I find my self struggling with how I portray my time here. Before I left the trip was all I could talk to people about. I was so excited, and I had no idea what to expect. I know that this will forever be a part of my story, and I want to reflect it as honestly as possible.
