And each time I’ve travelled back, my heart and stomach have been full of nerves and stress. Something in me has been wary of coming back, unable to be at peace with the life I left behind, seeing it again and living in amongst it.
It’s something I haven’t understood: why sometimes when you re-visit the places that held your past, anxiety comes and stress seems to sweep through your body.
But something is different this time. This time I am at peace. I don’t understand why or how I managed it but this time, this journey I just feel happy to be back in the big orange sofa; amongst the bookshelves and in front of the fireplace.
Maybe I’m finally getting used to having my life split between two time zones. The constant back and forth between the day to day life and the ones I am missing here.
So now, for the next weeks I will just appreciate it. The days of nothing. I will get up and say my thank you prayers, for these people and these places that are so familiar still. And I will breath, and allow myself to move slower.