missing home

So far my time in America has felt a bit surreal, kind of like a vacation, kind of like a furlow, kind of like an adventure. But it hasn't felt like home. I have enjoyed the slow pace life of rural Michigan and the new experiences of farming. I have enjoyed the time with family and the time to decompress from urban living. But it is not home. Actually, I have been missing home. I have been missing my friends and spiritual community. I have been missing the sights, sounds, and smells of Amsterdam. The city, though foreign, was my home and I am missing it. As I sit here I can hear the trams. I can smell the canals. I can feel the wind upon my face while riding my bike. I can see the diversity of faces walking through the streets. I can taste fresh bread and cheese. As I sit here I remember the laughter of friends, walking to the market with the kids, talking to people at Zolder50, and eating apple tart with Eric. It is strange to think we are not returning to Amsterdam. It feels like its about time to go home...