You can never go home again,
but the truth is you can never leave home,
so it's all right.
It's an interesting feeling coming to a place where you lived... no longer as a rightful owner - but as a guest.
I moved to New York 7.5 years ago... yet for a while my move was uncertain due to political and immigration issues between our countries. I kept on living in New York waiting to see what would happen. I married a wonderful man and by that finalized my move.
I've come to visit my family before and the room I had shared with my brother was kept the same. Even last year Bryan & I stayed at my grandma's house which was just as I remembered leaving it in 2002.
And now I am here again. It's no secret to anyone that my brother is the only one occupying the room now. My books have been packed away, my bed and my desk - taken apart and thrown out. I get to sleep on a couch in the living room. I am a guest now. Family visiting from another place. Oh what a strange feeling!
And yet - despite all changes to the decor - it all breathes memories... memories that won't (and shouldn't) be replaced.
It's so good to be home with my family in Minsk - and at the same time - with the same intensity of heart - I can't wait to be back home with my family in New York