This is a small world.

We live in a very small place. My friends are literally tossed across it.

It is a beautiful thing to have pieces of your own heart scattered on a globe. It is a blessing.
Wherever I go, it's home. I love that about my life. I love that when I choose to uproot myself and flee I always seem to find myself comfortable in the most foreign places.
(Ok, I'll admit, China was a stretch, but parts of it still tug at my heartstring.)

Most days, I still wake up and have to ask myself where I am. Often, I dream about the places I've seen. Sometimes, I wake up and the sun, the way it shines, feels like Switzerland. I've even caught myself remembering where to walk in the streets of Jesolo, Thessaloniki, and Yantai. If the wind blows in just the right way, I feel Austria. Sometimes the trash even reminds of Venice.

It's odd to feel magnetically drawn to each of the places I have been blessed to visit. As much as it pains me to be so distant, it's a beautiful feeling.

On top of all that angst and desire to see the ends of the earth lies another burden. The burden of friendship. Now, don't take this the wrong way, friendship is a wonderful burden to carry. It's a blessing and it's an honorable responsibility that I gladly bear. However, sometimes it feels heavy. Lately my heart aches for the ones I miss. My friends roam the earth, and most of them, like me, they desire to see it all. Dallas. San Diego. Siloam Springs. Tulsa. Helsinki. South Africa. Mexico. Bolivar. Junction City. Minneapolis. Omaha. Moscow. Madrid. I wish we all lived in the same city. I wish my community were smaller, but then I remind myself how very blessed I am to have homes scattered to the ends of the earth. I am blessed to know and love people from all walks of life, all sorts of background, and in all stages of life.

Every single day the world seems smaller. I hope it continues to do so until my dying day.