For the past two months, I’ve been seeing familiar faces from home. I’ll be walking down College Road on the way to the library at UCC and catch a glimpse of so-and-so from high school. Or while grabbing a hot chocolate with extra whipped cream (yes, I am five-years-old, thank you very much) I’ll know I’m staring at what’s-her-name from the Starbucks on Sheridan Road. That-one-guy from work is definitely sitting in front of me in Modern Irish.

It’s not them. Of course it’s not. But my mind has played this trick on me so many times that I’ve started cataloging which lookalikes I’ve seen. It’s turned into a game, almost as if I’m trying to collect all the familiar faces before I fly back to the U.S. I’ve even given this phenomenon a nickname: Doppelganger Syndrome.

And if that’s not weird enough, I’ve started having flashes of places around Chicago and Batavia. In the middle of reading about the 1937 Irish constitution, I suddenly see the Walmart parking lot on Kirk Road.

I just don’t get it. It seems like these images keep bubbling up to the surface because some small part of me is afraid I’ll forget them. To be honest, seeing bits of home is a comfort. I like being surprised when boy-from-freshman-year-dorm stands in line behind me at Tesco. My face splits with a goofy smile when a snapshot of the windmill off of Route 25 crosses my mind.

Even as I cling to these images, they help me settle in to my new surroundings. I can carry them around with me. They calm the fears that I’ll forget things about Cork when I go home, too. Maybe in four months, that afternoon I stood in the spitting rain watching the River Lee push beyond its banks and tear through the trees will meander on by as I’m sitting on the Red line.

It’s funny what will wedge itself into your mind. It’s even funnier how much those strange moments, places and people will mean to you when you’re thousands of miles away from home.

Side note: I’m saying this because, well, I can. I’M OFF TO PARIS IN THE MORNING!