I’ve been gone for 6 months. It feels like no time at all, and yet a long time.
I miss silly things like vanilla Activia and flax seed pitas from Costco. I miss intangible things like the familiar sound of the skytrain, my routine, and feeling like I belong. I’ve learned not to miss the proximity to my family, but I miss their energy; I miss their positivity, their insights and their inherent understanding of almost everything I am.
But I knew what I was leaving behind and I didn’t really think twice, except maybe the week before I left:
“wait, things are perfect – who in their right mind leaves when things are perfect?!”
But maybe that’s how I know I didn’t run away from anything. I left because I wanted to. Because I had to. And with every experience I have to be grateful for, I don’t regret a thing.
And so, I’ve learned to like Kefir, and I stopped eating pitas. I go to a new gym, hang out with other family, and I still meditate. In a way nothing’s changed. In another…I’m pretty sure everything has. It’s too early to tell but will I be any different if and when I return?