Feeling a little lost and stumbly, like the typical expat in need of a hug - and not just any hug, but the smothering, all-encompassing hold of someone who knows and has known me. You know?
And yet out I go, into the world, thankful for new experiences and a little adventure. I'm getting better at kicking myself out the door, knowing that getting to the party is often the hardest part.
Still, after a quarter century on this planet, you'd think it'd be easier to sink into a sense of belonging, that I'd get over not feeling quite right or good enough. Sometimes I wish I could slap a label on what I am, other than "sensitive." I take refuge and find gratitude in quiet mornings by the pool, long conversations over shared meals, and many cups of strong coffee.
In that way, being here is a lot like being at home. After all, wherever you go, there you are.
