Most days it doesn't really effect at an emotional level. But every once and a while, you wake up aching for it. It's like your body genuinely aches over what your mind is lingering over. Often I feel like I confuse the simplicity of childhood with believing how simple life was there. The question "are you glad you moved when you did?" has always been left slightly unanswered on my part only because I have no idea what highschool would have been like in Izmir. I don't know where my faith would have stood in the comfort of my little world. I think we all miss the days of waking up and getting our hands dirty, feet wet, and knees scraped. The days when having to get a band aid was the worst possible outcome of our choices. Because I will never experience living in Turkey as a young adult, I think it will remain in a state of too-good-to-be sort of a home. It hurts to ache for things you won't ever get back. It hurts to not visit what you miss. It hurts to just wake up and not have control over what your mind turns on and heart breaks over before you even eat breakfast. But I wouldn't change one thing of my story and timeline. If anything it shows his sovereignty and his hand over every single step. It's not wrong to miss and cherish memories and places, but it gets dangerous when you grow bitter and simply dwell on them. I'm thankful for things like our Turkish rugs that make it feel less like a dream. It's hurts, but how blessed I am to have something so good to miss.
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