May 26, 2014

Perhaps one of the strangest things about being an expat is that home is never a simple term. There is this home, the one I returned to on Friday, with the mortgage and the memories of our little family, with the white picket fence L built and the gardens I have planted. Our girls call this home, they spin and giggle in it's hall, play dress-ups in it's rooms, build forts in it's crannies.

Then there is the other home, the one I left on Wednesday. Where my people are, the ones I grew up with, the ones that knew me as I grew. Those people that hold my heart and are my home.

Every time I make the journey I come back a little lost. If home is where the heart is then when your heart is divided across the oceans, it takes a bit to settle. But settle we will.

♡ ashley


  1. I always feel the same way when we return home from my family's. I always wonder why I've moved so far away. Ever think you'd move back? x

  2. oh how i know this feeling well. and it also seems to me that you never have friendships later on in your life like the ones that you have from home...from growing up, from early on. those friendships where people get you in a way that they don't now. i'm not sure if i've explained that very well...but my heart yearns for those people that know me inside out and i do them...the ones that it doesn't matter if you don't see them or speak to them in ages, as soon as you see each other it's like you only saw them the day before. i miss them, and home and family. and i know how it takes time to settle back in...welcome "home". i have missed your posts! x



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