2 days now. One more trip. All their beautiful faces. And a still small voice that I'm having trouble concentrating on in the midst of all the shouting.

My life finds meaning in this one thing. I work hard at most everything but nothing was ever so fulfilling as the simplest smile. It's also the deepest heartbreak I've ever known. I guess that's how it works when you love another more than your own life.

I came home last year and unraveled emotionally. Too many questions and not enough answers. I slipped into a bitter, reluctant, lazy, self-serving, apathetic, cynical and depressed. I did plenty of things that I regret. Then I decided to leave it all and start over. It's been an uphill climb back to this time and another packed suitcase.

I'm thinking ahead this time. I'm ready, I think. Ready to make something of this. Ready to dedicate more than my emotions (because they never had a choice anyway). Can I make this feeling an action, my action a movement, and my movement a change? I'll start with the first step.

The reason - while I could barely face it - that I felt so empty after coming home last year, was because I felt small, useless, inconsequential, unable - and I chose to act as if my actions had no impact on the world, even my small one.

Then someone brought me a cup of tea one morning and through our talks began to open my eyes to how I came to give up on myself. He doesn't know it, but he restored the value of me in my own eyes.

I come a little more humbled, a little more realistic, a little more mature, a little more faithful, and with a renewed and revised determination. This love deserves my best.