⏳ 6 years gone and it still feels like last month

I counted last night. It's been 6 years since I first left home for work. I remember the flight like it was last month. The airport smell, my mother's face, the tea she made me drink. Every year I tell myself I'll take a longer leave this time and sit at home. Then I blink, and I'm in a queue at the airport again with 2 bags. Work here drags. Each shift in Jeddah feels long, and Thursdays take a whole week to arrive. But the months fly. Somebody says it's Ramadan soon and I think, wait, wasn't that just now? And my 3 weeks at home go in what feels like 3 days. Just as I get used to the mattress. I stop being a visitor for exactly 1 morning, and then it's time to pack. Every visit has something new. My nephew was up to my shoulder last time, and now he looks down at me. My father walks slower on the stairs. He says it's the knees, and he changes the subject. The corner shop where I bought biscuits as a kid is a mobile store now. Nobody told me about any of it. I wasn't there to see it happen slowly. My roommate says time runs faster when every day looks the same. Maybe he's right. I just feel like I'm watching my own life through the window of a bus. I called my mother after writing this. She said, you sound tired, eat something. Does anyone else living away feel it, or is it just me?

Houston here, and the part about the corner shop turning into a mobile store got me. Mine became a pharmacy. I stood outside for a minute like I'd walked into the wrong lane.

Yes, I get the same feeling, mostly when I'm packing to go back. Nobody warns you about that part. My vacations always seem to end on a Tuesday, and I spend the flight doing maths on when I'll return. One thing that helped a little was calling my parents at a fixed time each week. Without it, whole months blur together and I lose track of what they've been up to.