Back in Buenos Aires. The air feels warmer and the trees look fuller than when I left. The mosquitoes are soaring, but it is not because of them that I’ve got this sudden irritation. I’m calling it The One Month Itch.
It’s a strain of the Seventh Year of marriage, when you look at your surroundings and think, “Is this it?” For now that I have realized my dream to live in a foreign country, time has worn away the excitement and mystery.
Reality. Had I forgotten about it? Now the beauty of the streets goes unacknowledged, and I grumble as I trip on uneven sidewalks. I’ve mastered the bus system and the Subte (subway), I’ve bought dulche de leche and dental floss, I’ve started recognizing the dogs on my block. And yet, I can’t call this home. My closest friends and family are thousands of miles away, and I have little to replace them with here.
In the USA, we prescribe pills - for attention disorders, for impotence and restless leg syndrome and more. But here in Argentina, I posit that only time will cure The One Month Itch.
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