I’d Move Tomorrow.. Under These Conditions | Ladies of Hive Contest #293

If I could do an exchange year as an adult, I don’t think I’d choose a fancy city.

No thank you. I am already tired.

I would choose a small town somewhere warm, where people still greet each other, the coffee is strong, and someone’s grandmother knows my full life story before I have even unpacked my bag.

My host family would be loud, kind, and very concerned about whether I have eaten.

I would say, “Yes, thank you, I ate.”

They would say, “That is not food,” and put another plate in front of me.

Honestly, that sounds perfect.

For one year, I would like to live slowly.

I would help in the kitchen, walk around the neighbourhood, learn the language badly, and probably say something completely wrong at least once a day.

But that is fine. At this age, dignity is overrated.

I think the best part of an adult exchange year would not be the place.

It would be feeling like part of a family again.

Being teased a little.
Being fed too much.
Being corrected with love.
Being reminded that home is not always where you were born.

Sometimes home is where someone shouts from the kitchen:

“Come eat before it gets cold!”

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Image is mine. Sun setting on an another day of promise.