"agur" is a four-letter word.

"It's cool," the customs guy in Washington, D.C. told me. "You're a civilian now - you're not a tourist anymore." The relief finally hit me: I'm home. I belong here.

I needed it, because starting yesterday with the end of classes I'd been a mess. I was waiting for my last train out of Laudio when it really started to hit me how much I'm leaving behind. The past 48 hours I've been breaking down and crying on and off. It's the "lasts" that have gotten me: Last Saturday daytrip. Last time singing in church. Last hug with each friend.

This morning I thought I was going to make it OK - I was too sleepy to cry, I figured. Then my friend who had brought me to the airport started crying. I lost it. I've been crying like a baby on and off the whole way home.

Of course, the amount this is hurting really only confirms that it was time to move back now. I know I'm not up to building an expat life for the long term at this point, and if it was this hard now, it would have only been more difficult next year. I know and love people who have remained in Spain because, well, they woke up one day and realized that their life was more in Spain than back home. I'm not ready to do that, not ready to leave American life behind. If it's this hard now, it would have been impossible next year.

I have so much to look forward to here in the USA. It's why I'm moving back home. But as my pastor said, "tienes el corazón dividido." Your heart's divided now.


"Agur" is Basque for "goodbye," by the way. It could be the worst word in the whole language.