As I travel down life's pathway, Know not what the years may hold.

Wow, it's hard to believe that it's already been a year. One year ago Thursday, I packed by suitcase, said goodbye, and got on a plane to begin this crazy journey. Since then, I've spent over three (complete) days in an airplane spanning six US States, four countries and eleven time zones. I've endured temperatures from -20 to 130 degrees Fahrenheit. A lot has changed.
My life, of course, is no longer the same as it was. To some degree, we've been institutionalized. I have not, as Dad and Jenny so aptly put it, worked my "hunter-gatherer" skills for quite some time. If I need something to eat, I know exactly when and where I can get a hot plate. I barely remember how to write a check, and if it wasn't for spell checker, I don't think I could spell "rent." I haven't had to worry (much) about transportation. Anywhere I want or need to go, there's a ride waiting. If I need a light bulb changed, I have a legion of Iraqis and third-country nationals to come and do it. I haven't really paid any bills or had any wants in a year. That's a long time.
It's hard to imagine what independence will be like again. I got a taste of it on leave, but still, all my wants were met. (I was staying at my parents' house, of course all my wants were met!) Being "free" again is both a frightening spectre and an exciting prospect. In less than eighty days I should be there again. No more coffee with Generals, no more gunfire at dawn, no more mortars and rockets; just me, alone in my fantastic urban apartment with two cats and a cup of coffee. Not to mention a fridge full of Guinness. I can't wait.