Sometimes I can’t believe it happened.

I lie in bed at night, or sit at my desk, or wander through the grocery store and try to remember what it was like when I wasn’t here. When I was there, in another country, another culture, another time.

It takes more effort than I think it should. To remember.

Sometimes I can’t believe how much it has changed me.

When we first got back I said that it hadn’t changed me. I said that I had taken this Gillian around the world  and had brought the same Gillian back.

There were no life-changing epiphanies for me, no thoughts of giving-it-all-up to live in an ashram, no great ground-breaking moments. Just me, coming back.

And then I slowly realized that it wasn’t the same Gillian.

That I am different.

That I have changed.

But, then again, I wonder if I have.

Or if this was in me all along.