I’ve been in Canada a year and a half now. After living in Thailand for five years.
I can tell you that I do not miss the place too much. I have pangs of it every now and then and a slew of specific moments that snag in my brain system. I don’t know what draws them out- usually it’s nothing relating to what my present moment is.
I don’t get stuck on them though-I let them pass for what they are and continue on.
As soon as those deep misses hit,immediatly following I feel either one of two things.
One: You want to be at the place you are not in; but you have set a perfect example of the grass not being greener on the other side.
I want to go back sometimes, but if I think practically, the idea is absurd. I got into such a rut there ( my relationship at the time certainly aided it) that I began to detest my surroundings. Wanting nothing more, than my homeland.
Two: I am fortunate to be able to feel something like this. For a place like this, for a time in my life like this.
There are millions who will never know what living outside of learning what hackysack or hopscotch or caramilk chocolate bars are. Millions who will never spend five years of their life in a country with a language different then their own. People who will not know what it’s like to go without having a bath for years and only showers. Who will not know what it’s like to miss a bag of ketchup chips or honey nut cheerios.
And that’s okay.
I admit to never walking the Great Wall of China or trying to learn how to surf.
I’ve never even eaten an olive and liked it.
And this is what creates individuality.