Nobody said it was easy

 Dear future hubster,

there is a dark side to all of those "home is" moments, I just usually choose to not give them too much airtime, partly due to the false belief that if I pretend it doesn't exist it will go away (if that ever worked for anybody please let me know), and partly because I do give in to the other false belief that I don't have the right for dark moments because of the bright moments. Pick your lane kinda thinking, you should be grateful kinda thinking.

The dark side does exist nonetheless, and sometimes it pops up in what should be the brightest "home is" moments. When you're somewhere you've been waiting to be and suddenly don't know what you're doing there; when you're with people you've been longing to see and now you doubt if they've been longing to see you too; when you feel like you're being pulled in a hundred directions and you don't want to go to any of them; always, always when you have to live out of a suitcase  and people think it's funny but all you feel is that there is literally no place for you and your shoes; when you don't remember why, and all the other questions flood you. "Who am I?  Why am I here? I thought I wanted to be here, why am I not ecstatic? I thought they wanted me to be here, why are they not ecstatic?  Ugh why are they so ecstatic it's just me? Did they miss me? Will they miss me? Do I matter? How much? How do I know?  Am I enough?  Am I too much?  How do I know?  Did I mess it up? Am I going to die alone?  Will anybody care?"

And then of course you go to the next gathering and book the next train and pack more cheese and chocolate and send the postcards and the socks and the books. Because all the love is out there and it is worth it. 

You just wish that everybody knew that globetrotters,  trail followers, cool aunties,  larger-than-life uncles, serial suitcase breakers, we are like all other people. Sometimes we bring the light, sometimes we need the light.