дома

I'm home. I've met my nephew, I've slept in my bed, I've shared my chocolate, I've driven my car, I've had conversations with strangers just because I can, I've been given a new phone (my parents are the best), and I've teased/been teased by my sister. It feels good. I like being home.

But man do I miss it. I woke up today (bright and early because that's just what my body does now) and it hit me. For the first time I woke up with that terrible, overwhelming feeling of...responsibility. I mean sure, I was responsible for the education and lives of 19 children every day, but that pales in comparison to the responsibility of choosing what filter to put in my Instagram post.

I think I went with Amaro.

Life was easier in Ukraine. All I had to worry about was if my passport was going to be stolen, whether or not I could outrun the man staring at me on the mashrutka/following me around McDonalds, bomb threats in the metro, and fitting all the chocolate in my backpack. Ok, that last one was actually pretty stressful. (and do you realize I talk about chocolate literally every time I "social media" (and yes, i just made "social media" a verb)

The point is there are things here that I have to think about that I haven't had to think about in a long time. And actually kind of serious things. 

What? I can be serious. Sometimes.

Like how I am so serious that Tyrone Wells' Christmas album is bringing me immense joy right now. Look it up if you want to be happy. And if you don't want to be happy then I have chocolate for you. (there i go again...) Also, if you're not happy and need a self-esteem boost, I suggest leaving the country for 3 months and then coming home a day before your birthday. People are so nice.

peace and 22

thank you so much for all the birthday wishes.

rrw