This morning I woke up in Dallas, Texas, in my parents house. After arriving in Dallas and having a much needed shower and Mexican food with my family, I fell over into their guest bed at 10 pm and slept for three hours. I was dreaming that I was in Africa in a strange tent and something was going on outside with the lions. I knew that I needed to get out of the tent, and fast. Still asleep, I panicked and jumped out of bed and in one swift move pulled on my torn-up blue jeans. I tried to find my flip-flops and ended up getting them on the wrong feet. I shuffled down the hallway of my parents house and it wasn't until I reached the glass door leading to their den that I woke up. I blinked hard and looked around at my surroundings and realized where I was.
I tried to go back to sleep but wasn't very successful. It was weird to be back in air conditioning with a fluffy bed and ceiling fans humming overhead. As the clocked moved towards dawn, I realized that I was missing the morning sounds of Africa. Lions roaring in the distance, birds kawk-ing and mrrroak-mrrroak-ing (they don't simply chirp in Africa!), monkeys chattering, unknown crackling sounds in the bush outside. I had grown so accustomed to those sounds in the hours before dawn. While I was in Africa, I would occasionally have pangs of homesickness. It feels very weird to now be having pangs of homesickness for Africa.