Dear First Home,

I must confess something to you. I miss you desperately, but I don’t mind living here. I can survive here. I have friends and family and a community. I’ve learned a lot and have grown so much. There are many opportunities for me here. I haven’t told anyone this because 1). I really want to return to you despite the fact that this place is growing on me and 2). I’m afraid that once I admit that I am fine here, it will make it harder to move if the time comes, or that moving might be made impossible. I hate being stuck in a situation. That has become one of my new fears, limited opportunities. I want the option to escape if I feel inclined to do so. Part of me wants to go, the other doesn’t, so I find myself in turmoil. I’m afraid to go somewhere completely new, but if we go back, back to you, our friends will be strangers, our family far away. At least we will be somewhere that feels like home— but will it?