From my journal dated August 24, 2013
I don’t want to leave here. I’m at my family’s property on the coast, where we’ve been camping for the past few days. This place has lots of memories and nostalgia attached to it, but up ‘til now I’ve managed not to think too much of any of it – not look at the bigger picture – and just enjoy my time here.
But as we pack up our camping gear, I can’t avoid it, and the first wave of sentimentality rushes over me and brings tears to my eyes. It is the first wave, of the many more that I’m sure will come, during this final week, my last week, home.