With every passing weekend, with every return trip home, I feel more and more disconnected from the place I came from. I'm standing there in that room and people are talking about stuff that I was never there to see.
I'm also reminded of how beautiful my home is. Not just the house but the whole area. People that had visited our area had always told us how beautiful it was but I never fully appreciated what they were saying until now.
However that doesn't mean that I will return. Amongst all the beauty and familiarity there are still those old thorns that I left behind.
It's a struggle between reasons for and against following this crazy dream you see. If I ever want to move to America for a while I would have to leave this little guy to grow up on his own. Which brings rise to how much you are willing to sacrifice for a place you know nothing about and a goal you have no idea how to achieve.
Maybe I'm wrong, maybe I'm just being (crazy) silly. Maybe this will all turn out to be amazing but right now I'm grateful for moments like these where I can create things that I can find an escape in.