One of the craziest feelings in the world is realizing that you may never  return to a place once again. A place that for so many years you claimed as a staple in your life, a second home. Those last glimpses of a city filled with childhood memories and smiles and tears and everything dysfunctional. I waved goodbye to Greenville, Texas this week. Without my dragon to breath on, our family has said its goodbyes. Goodbyes to the town my father was partially raised in and I spent nearly half of my holidays at. I didn’t get to eat that last Cb’s burger or get lost in the country. And I don’t know that I ever will. Its as though a piece is missing, despite those cliches. I didn’t know I was so attached to a place, to those memories. And the last glimpse was unbearable. One of the worst days of my life, too many tears for a daughter to see. And it was like the city knew I would never return and it tried to capture me with tornadoes and black skies. I still escaped. And I am now back in this city, and the moment I stepped off that plane from Texas I fell in love all over again. I have been living in the city. Really living. Going out until dawn. Finding new smiles, new faces who too have places they have forever said goodbye too. And we are alive. And not going back.