It's 6 in the morning, my flight goes in a mere three hours, and once again I spent the night packing, and trying to wrap ongoing things up.
It's not the first time I prepare for a life away from home; preparations for the Erasmus semester, as well as for the military service, were equally late. However, in both cases a clear ending was in sight.
Not so much here. Maybe this is the last day at my childhood's home, barring future visits. Or maybe I'll return after my Master's.
I'll miss home.
One year has passed since I moved to my new home, in this new country. Many things happened, too many to individually recount and properly evaluate. But the fact that I can call this place "home" is a good sign.
The long-term future remains unforeseeable. Next year might find me in yet another place, or I might still be here. The country and its people have been good to me.
I was worried that I might miss my first home at first; never did I expect to find a second one.
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