Home is where the heart is

This entry may appear to be all about ego, but those of you that know me will know it's really about insecurity.

I used to be important.

important to 1300 people every day. Then I moved to Sweden.

They say that moving to a new country is #3 on the most stressful events list behind death of a loved one or a messy divorce. If you've never done it, if you've never been the one who has to follow and make it all work, not the one for whom the move is designed, but the one who is required to surrender her identity and start all over, then you won't appreciate that #s 1,2,&3 on that list are just about equal as far as I'm concerned.

I didn't know how it would go, coming back. Sometimes when you try to go back, to revisit, it's a disaster. But this hasn't been. I've been celebrated. I been made to feel important, to feel I still have a place, that I still matter, that my special friendships are still just as special. And it has been wonderful.

I leave for Sweden (home?) day after tomorrow. I'm sad, but not regretful. Alice doesn't belong here at the moment. Alice is supposed to be in Sweden, experiencing a new world. I'm ok with leaving in spite of the tears. Because I know that my special friends are constants.

Right, Voyager?