It´s been snowing for days and it´s so very pretty outside! Snowflakes big like butterflies, they keep on falling down hurriedly, with vigor, as though they had only one purpose in life. It´s windy and it´s ruthless outside and I feel like a polar explorer when I dare leave the house. I hadn´t realized how much I´d missed it, it reminds me of my mother country, the panic on the news and the closed schools. Yet I´m not a winter´s child, I prefer admiring it from under the blanket, with a cup of tea in my hand.  Staring at the snow safe and sound with the cat besides me, I can feel nostalgia slipping into my thoughts.

I´m going home in February and I´m as excited as ever. Every time I go back home it´s like taking a trip back in time. I don´t just go on a holiday, I go back to being 19. And it´s soaring. It´s not about age or accomplishments, it´s just that beginning, the promise of something bigger, I always wonder when I decided I got there. Don´t get me wrong, I´m pretty happy. The only thing I want is a baby and a picket fence, otherwise I´m good. I have it all. Just not the promise. I´m not 19 any more and the promise is gone. And I don´t know how to go home and not look for the time that passed…