Happy to hurt a bit

I've been home a couple days now. I promise I won't always reference life from when I left Ireland... but for now, I still feel like it. I look at the date, and I see that it is the 19th. It's strange to me, because for four months I saw nothing past December 16th. Now I'm on the other side of it. And to be honest, I'm not quite sure what to do with myself.

I could probably say a lot about how hard it is to be away from friends in Ireland, or go on about how much I miss the hills. There's a plethora of thoughts along those lines. But perhaps the details of those ponderings need to stay within me for a while. Maybe. Besides, I'm still overwhelmingly thankful that my experience was even that great that I miss it this much. I think it's brilliant that I even know those people back in Dublin to miss. If I didn't ache being removed from it, it would have been no great thing. And it was incredible... beyond superlatives. So I'm grateful for the hurt, as it reminds me of how good I've had it. And I'm also very much aware of the blessing it is to have this family to come back to. So the hurt and the smiles and the tears and the laughter all comingle... and I can't complain.