All over the world

I've been thinking about next year a lot. About what to do. And whenever I do, a subtle throbbing swells up in my chest. It makes it just a touch harder to breath. Because no matter what I choose to do next year, it's going to hurt some. The worst part about living the way that I do is leaving. It's always there, hanging over my head, occupying some small corner of my mind. Some day, I'll have to leave this place and these people. And that thought hurts, especially knowing me and how bad I am at staying in touch. Especially knowing how easy it is, over time, for everyone to move on and slowly forget who we were while we were there, in a place, together. The comfort of good memories fade until you're eventually nearly strangers again. I think that's the saddest part. Being so closely connected to a tiny, unexpected part of the world for a while, making a life there with friends and hobbies and knowing the best places to walk and eat, feeling like you belong, at least a little bit, there. And then it's time to go, time to move on, and once you leave, the magic of you living in that place will never exist again. At least it hasn't for me. And it's sad to know that that time for Turkey is approaching.

Even if I were to decide to stay in Antalya for a fourth year, it would still hurt some, as it does every year that I choose not to move home. One of the hardest parts of leaving Reno 8 years ago was leaving my then 4 and 5 year old brothers. I knew I'd miss a lot of their childhood, but I had no idea just how much I'd miss. I figured I'd be gone for 2 years, then I'd roll right back into their lives like nothing happened. But it's 8 years later and for the first time today, TJ asked me over skype "So what have you been up to?" Prior to tonight, he had never asked me a question, he just made faces at himself on skype while minimally answering all my stupid questions, like any little kid would do. But tonight he asked me a question and it led to a conversation and if we're having conversations that means he's not really a little kid anymore. Then he went and picked up his ukulele and strummed out Over the Rainbow for me, and I've missed too much. We're not practically strangers, but I've missed too much.

And my mom moved to Las Vegas just this weekend and Reno will never quite feel like home again and I wasn't there to help her or even to pack up my own stuff that she's been keeping for me for the past eight years. Big things are happening in the lives of everyone I know and love and I'm never there to be a part of it. I'm just gradually becoming more and more of a stranger to more and more people all over the world.

And this is turning in to a weird, depressing, disjointed novel so I'm gonna go to bed.