I'll often stop and think about them

It's only 9pm, but it's actually 2am. I should stay up for another hour, so bear with me as I wax philosophical.

When I went to England many years ago for a friend's wedding, it was weird. Returning to a place I know well, even though it isn't home, is always weird for me, because I go about my business and everything is familiar, which gives the impression that I'm home. Except I'm not. There are lots of places in my life that set off this emotional chain reaction (cue 'Places I Remember') but it's especially odd in locales of medium sojourn. Boston is uber-familiar to me; I know my way around without thinking about it; this doesn't set off a 'wait-why-is-this-familiar' soul-search because I lived in Boston for many years and go back there regularly. I've spent a lot of time in the U.K., but not so much that I expect it to feel normal, so when it does-- normal but not quite normal-- I can't help but think about my life.

So here I am on a rock in the middle of the Pacific, going about my business (literally), and I run into familiar, friendly faces. It's not easy to walk away from these relationships, these people that I've met. Would it be easier if I'd been able to leave this all behind from five thousand miles away, without dealing with it at all? Maybe it's a blessing that I have to consciously deal with the fact that I'm leaving. Work meetings only intensify this feeling: the work will be taken on by someone else; all that I've learned and worked for this, I have to leave behind. I figured leaving would be difficult, bittersweet; but this trip is magnifying the sadness and sense of consequence, in a way I didn't imagine.