Fear

I was freaking out.

Fear of forgetting what it meant.

Fear of the fact that coming back would/could mean being the old me.

I totally liked more the new one, more complex, more full, more experienced. When you leave in your twenties and come back in your forties, there has been so much going on with you all those years that, of course, you can not turn the page, start new chapter that easily.

You came back where you left so many years ago. Some mornings everything is so freaking familiar, old familiar, its looks like the most important years of your life were a dream.

You are back to basics.

And you freak out, because you are not ready to say good bye to all those years, experiences and people till you are hundred percent sure that all those precious memories (a.k.a. your life!) have left a clear print in yourself and hence, they are going to stay with you, wherever you happen to be. Even if that is spending time with mummy and daddy at your old house, surrounded by your old things and being a daughter again. And where everything feels so familiarly odd.