Ugh. How do I go back to real life when the thing I want most is to go back?

Becoming a recluse won’t bring my dad back. I’m going to keep moving forward, even if I have to kick myself in the butt sometimes. I’m going back to work, back to blogging, and on Friday night, will be boarding a plane to NOLA for a quick trip to celebrate two big milestones for a very good friend of mine.

When I lived in Dublin, the running joke was that my parents started to ask me where are you? before asking how are you? because I was constantly on the go. My dad cultivated a wanderlust in me, and I know that he would appreciate that I was adventuring with my friends in a new city.

What happened is not okay, but I will be okay. I am bruised (badly), but I’m not broken.

Regardless, if anyone needs a tissue or waterproof mascara, find me. I’m well-stocked and trying to keep my sheet together.