The only way to England is an unbearable 8 hour flight.

It is my second day in Totton, the small suburb of Southampton in which Harvey's sister lives. The experience of flying to England for the second time was less overwhelming..but about 10 times more uncomfortable. I flew on American Airlines. I was squashed in the middle seat of 5 people with no leg room, not a choice of movies, and (worst) three screaming children 2 rows above me. After a long wait at border patrol and baggage claim, I made my way through the greeting gate meeting Harvey. It had been 4 and 1/2 months since I had seen him. I had daydreamed many times about how perfect the moment would be and the first thing that came out of my mouth was  "I need to go to the bathroom and throw up." Nooott exactly the perfect greeting, but I reassured him that I would be fine as soon as I got out of the airport and got some fresh air.

Yesterday, I took it very easy. The first time I flew to England (last November), Harvey and I had the bright idea to go out on the town the night I arrived. England is 7 hours ahead of my hometown, and I hadn't slept since before my flight. Lets just say I was a bit smarter this time. I did not stay awake 18 hours, drink, and spend the next day throwing up all morning and not being able to move all day. Instead, I spent time with Harvey's sister Grace and her husband and we all went on a walk with their dog, Kernow. It was wonderful.

The biggest difference between this time and visiting last time is knowing that I don't have to go home. You have no idea how much a relief it is for me. I don't need to be doing something 100% of the time. I don't need to worry I will miss out. I have a whole 9 months. It definitely has not hit me yet...but I feel that when it does, I will be ready.