I’m back home.
It’s a strange feeling, knowing everyone I pass, knowing roads I haven’t traveled on in a year like the back of my hand, seeing the familiar but distant mountains.
Everyone keeps asking me the same thing, “How does it feel to be home?”, and I answer the same every time; “It’s bittersweet.”
I’m so glad I’m here and I get to spend so much time with my nephews, but at the same time, this massive change is bringing all of these emotions to the surface. But the emotions don’t scare me as much as the memories.
You think you’re fine, and then one day, you realize that you’re not exactly okay. It comes in waves; regret, loneliness, confusion, they all take turns cycling through my head, and late at night, I sit alone in my own head. Even when I’m too exhausted to stay awake to think, my dreams dip me into those past days.
On the drive over, I had too much time to think. I withdrew into my thoughts when Krista fell asleep, and for hours, I was immersed in things that should have stayed tucked neatly away.
I crave this change, yet I shy away from it. I haven’t changed the time on my computer because I tear up when I try. I haven’t changed things on my Facebook page because I have the same problem.
I think about how last summer started and am shocked to see how similar this summer is. I think about how last summer ended and have a hard time breathing when I realize that this summer won’t end with the same thing.
It’s unfair to everyone involved that I keep drowning myself in that massive ocean. I keep pulling myself out, but I can’t help but let the waves lap at my toes.