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I’ve always breathed a sigh of relief as I’ve seen the Seattle skyline appear, most often through a haze of gray.

When I’ve returned to Seattle in the past, I’ve known this is where I should be; the familiar street names appearing once again, giving me comfort in their steadfastness.

This time was different. After an almost 18 hour day of traveling, I drove through the city to my apartment, the skyline twinkling in the familiar darkness of February in the PNW. And I wasn’t home.

Maybe it’s the re-entry into my own culture after spending 2 weeks speaking Spanish and immersing myself into the Guatemalan culture.

Maybe it was the week in the village, where I learned that $1.50 a day can sustain a family of 7 or even more.

Maybe it was connecting with people from the Netherlands, Quebec, Brazil, Mexico, France, Austria, Saskatchewan and more.

My definition of home had changed without me even realizing it. Seeing my family, my friends and my absolutely wonderful girlfriend gave me the home feeling usually inspired by the skyline. And I think I prefer it this way.

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