So hard to leave. Almost as hard as it was to come.

My life has this pattern: I leave, and it breaks my heart. Then I am away, and I'm happier than even I could have guess I'd be. Then I have a chance to go home for a visit. And it scares me. Then I go home. And it shakes me -- because it requires a giant shift of self. Then its time to leave home and go back to (insert Middle Eastern Country here). And it breaks my heart.

Why do I do this? I am sitting at the Airport Embassy Suites in Atlanta, waiting just another hour or so until my flight for northern Iraq departs (yeah, I'll be in the air when 2011 breaks). My dad and brother are down here for the Chic Fil A Bowl game, so I came down with them. Now they are at the game and I'm headed to catch my flight. I have only been home this time for 2 weeks -- after a rediculous 14 month hiatus in the Middle East -- and, as usual, the first few days (or the entire time, depending on your interpretation) was a challenge. I was able to put my finger on the reason: I literally live in two completely and fully seperate worlds, which inevitably means that I am two different people to at least some degree. The people here have NO connection to or idea of the life I live there. That makes it REALLY freaking hard to transition. But transition I do, and I (over)share my life with all the amazing people I am lucky enough to call family and friends. They support and love me in spite of the bumps that come with my return (no car, no phone, an inability to remember that jaywalking is not kosher in the US). And I've just said goodbye to my passionate mother, my beautiful sister, my steadfast father, and my amazing unforgettable smart as hell little brother.

Its the kind of goodbye that hurts so much it makes your nose tingle.

Why do I do this? I mean, I ask that already knowing the answer. Or at least knowing that it will come rushing up to me in the form of a Kurdish gust of wind as soon as I step off that plane in Erbil.

But right now, back at the hotel with my bag packed and my family's familiar belongings strewn across the room haphazardly and I can't help but wonder.