I had a moment to reflect; looking out at the group of friends partying, thinking about how I used to play in the trees behind the house and run around on the same deck. But the moment didn't bring me any comfort or security in knowing that I could carry on the tradition of my family with my own kids. Instead, I though, "Really? Really? After all this time I'm back here?" It felt like a lack of progress. Like I haven't made anything special or different of myself for my kids.
When I told Mari about it he said he understood. Which was a huge surprise because I was totally expecting him to say that I'm crazy for not having a stronger sense of attachment to family history and legacy or something profoundly brainiac and not empathetic. Knowing that he understands makes the feeling all that more powerful.
No action yet... just something I noticed. Don't want to move again for at least another year!