Torn.

I'm wondering if it's always going to be like this.

I've spent all year in Dallas wanting to visit Honduras for at least a little while. To see my dogs, to sit in my favorite room to read during sunset, to enjoy my family and eat some tortillas.

And now I've done it, and I spent far too much time wishing I was back in Texas; with my husband, my bed, my own place, my own food.

Now it's time to leave Honduras again--and I don't want to. Because I won't get to see my dogs, to sit in my favorite room and read during sunset, won't get to see my family again for another, too-long while.

I suppose it'll never really go away, this feeling of being divided between two places I call home. I'm thinking that my sense of Dallas as 'home' will grow stronger over time; but I'll never get over missing this beautiful house, this crazy family.

And I'm getting tired of saying goodbye to my family. Too much crying.

I guess for now, it's still a little heartbreaking every time I leave one place for the other. And that's alright, because I don't ever want to lose the ties I have to this place.

I guess that's what growing up is all about.