Over two years ago, when I stepped on the plane to Amsterdam, I said goodbye to my home country and didn't look back. Initially it was because I was too enthralled with the prospects of the new adventures that lay ahead of me. Time wore on, and my love for Europe grew through all my travels. Because of that, any thoughts I may have had of a return visit dissipated.
When anyone asked if or when I would go back, I'd reply "not anytime soon, that's for sure" before they finished their sentence. When they'd question my desire to see family and friends, I'd respond "they can just as easily see me, and have a LOT more fun in the process!"
My confession is this: I had no desire to return to the US. Mainly, I didn't want to use any of my 5 weeks worth of precious vacation days in a place I grew up in. And dare I say, I even became a snobbish expat, loving my current country (or continent, actually) better than that of my birth. There, I said it. Fellow Americans, forgive me. Now let's move on.
....Because I did go back.
But I'll tell you about that later.