I have never come to so completely and totally adore a place so instantly.  The standard is about a year before my new blank white walls start to feel like home after I move--before that they are an enemy closing in on me, foreign and ominous.  I never thought that someone could actually get used to moving away.  I never thought something like this could become easy, but here I am, so completely in love with this era of my life despite the tugging on my heartstrings whenever I look at that Okinawan map hanging by my desk.  People have always said that growing up is a trap and it really sucks (which I get... the whole "bills" thing isn't exactly thrilling.)  I am still just basking in the joy of it, because I can feel myself getting stronger with every day that passes and every lesson I learn the hard way.  These are the walls we decorated ourselves, the tribal-patterned backdrop for this second act of our lives, and I find them absolutely enchanting.

She's always been my resolution, the lower light guiding me home, my vision of the finish line to keep from quitting the race.  I cannot even describe how surreal it is to finally hold everything you've ever missed in your arms again.  Each time I felt myself fighting off tears in security lines or I felt my face flushing red with anxiety as I navigated the labyrinth-esque airports, I would just picture this moment here after I got to the other side and my stomach would instead pang with excitement.  Before she left on her mission we would always say that this was the ultimate test--if we could hang onto our best friendship through those two years, then this was going to stick for life.  It felt far more like crossing the finishing line of a marathon than a security point as I walked out that door and saw her waiting there with my mom and brother.