The first three months out here were tough, there's no denying that. Being so far away from home; adjusting to jet lag whilst working; missing simple things; missing comparatively nothing. It took the three months everyone said it would to settle in. The following three months were amazing.
At the six month mark I've been, not quite floored, but buffeted. Call it an emotional hurricane if you will, though I have no doubt that Hurricane Sandy more than outweighs my feelings of misery.
There had been the possibility of kind of (in a round about way) touching base in the next few weeks, that's now not happening. It's not a blow per se, but it's not ideal either. In addition things going on back at home make me wish I were there; wish I could lend a hand or simply just be around if needed. When on the other side of the world, dropping everything isn't as easy. As a friend said, you feel like nothing should get in the way of you being with your family, but then life just happens. It does happen. And in this instance it sucks.
As you get older, the trappings and the hooks that held down your childhood begin to disappear and fade. People die, houses get sold, minds and memories get lost. Knowing all this will and does happen doesn't make any of it any easier. Watching it happen to friends and distant family makes it, if anything, harder when it comes round to being your turn. And when you are one of the youngest in the family the loss of that childhood is more pronounced and happens at a faster rate.
And then you remember that you are away for Christmas. That it is the first time that any of your immediate family has spent Christmas away.
The Childhood dreams are over. The transition has happened and nothing is ever going to be quite the same again. Did the final break come when I moved away, or was it going to happen regardless. They may not be an answer, but the one thing we know for sure is that whatever we do; whatever our actions (or not), change is going to, and will, come!
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