I spent my whole formative life wanting to get away from home. Getting out was like a weight lifted from my shoulders. No more overbearing religiosity, no more outward expectations. Moving across the sea let me set those expectations for myself, let me conduct myself how I wanted and live by my philosophies. So, getting the message about the reunion filled me with conflict. On one hand, I was eager to see how things had changed. I hadn't spoken to anyone from home but my mother. None of my old friends, no other family, I had essentially killed off that life when I left so coming back presented myself with a kind of fresh perspective on things. And still, on the other hand, there was a reason I deadened my past. There's a lot of painful memories waiting back home, ready to be relived. I wasn't sure I was ready to confront them. I had, after all, ran from them and covered them up. In the end, I chose to return. I think, ultimately I wanted to show everyone what I had become rather than see what they'd become. It was how I'd expected. They'd followed the track they'd laid. My father hadn't changed at all, he and I still don't see eye to eye and that's fine. My mother, however, it was good to see her. She's the only constant from home and it was quite good to see her after so long. All in all, it was a positive outcome.