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Thursday, January 7, 2016

One year

I was the only one who remembered I had been home a year. But, I guess that's what it means to be an adult. No one to bear witness to your life except you.

I was doing my regular dancing in the bathroom mirror pre-bedtime ritual when it dawned on me. "Wow," I thought. "Time waits for no man, time marches on."

And then I was overcome with a sense of confusion.

I still battle with what it means to be back at home in the states and what it would mean to move back overseas. To start a life 4,000 miles away.

Sometimes it just feels like I would be witnessing my family's life unfold from a greater distance.

I live at "home" now, but it's not like I live next-door to anyone I love. It takes a flight to get to anyone I love. So what's the difference?

Maybe I'm just tired. Maybe it's just first world problems.

Or maybe my mind just likes to take me on these intricate journeys through worry and concern. 

Only for me to emerge on the other side victorious in my understanding that ultimately all things conspire for my good.

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