Leaving is bittersweet. For the past three months and change this house has been my home. I'm the one that buys the groceries, that washes the dishes and the one that plans our meals and checks the laundry. And I like it. I've grown accustomed to falling asleep to the sound of his breathing, to kissing him goodbye when he goes to work and to our evening routine. Even though it's just for a month, I'm sure I'll miss it all dearly. Most of all, I'll miss him.
And yet I can't keep myself from looking forward. I'm relieved that I can finally finish the MA (if all goes well, which I pray it will), but most of all I'm happy. I haven't seen my family and my friends for three months. I can't wait to meet them all and tell them all about my new life and all the little adventures I went through and the wonderful people I've met. I miss my things (the tons of books I left behind), my car, I miss the food, the places and I miss strolling around the city without having to think where I'm going. And then there's Christmas. All the little traditions and all the preparations for the holidays.
So here I am. I don't want to leave but I can't wait to be back.