"I'm Going Home Next Weekend"

"I'm going home next weekend."  

This is the phrase that I repeatedly said to myself this evening (I should say this morning. I'm a bit of a night owl).  I suddenly realized how close it all really is.  it's like I've been sitting at the train station all morning waiting for the train home.  Now I can hear it's whistle in the distance.  it says, "I'm coming! Hope you're ready to go."

But am I ready to go.  I've been here so long that I've gotten used to everything here.  All the things that were strange are normal. The things I used to think, "you'd never see this in the States" are what I want to have when I get home.  

"I'm going home next weekend."

It's like a record playing in my head. Over and over.  a constant reminder that it is going to end soon.  I'm not sure how I feel about it.  Sad to be leaving, so Happy to be going home, anxious about the long trip home, ready to sleep in my own bed, but really going to miss living at Choltida Place.  I think I epitomize the meaning of mixed emotions right now.   
But it's ok to have them, right?  


I can't wait to see yall when I get home. And I am really going to miss you guys that I'm leaving here.