You know when you make a choice, and it feels right at the time, like REALLY right, because it’s for a good reason, or maybe it’s for a couple of good reasons, and you’ve thought it all through, or at least you think you have? And then years later, or maybe just months, or even days, it all comes back to bite you in the butt? That’s kind of where I am right now. I’m here, in some country I can barely pronounce, trying to pretend like I’m still useful, still productive, still… me, I guess. My husband, he's great, he really is, and being a military spouse, it’s a whole thing, you know? It’s not just about him, it’s about both of us, and his career, and making sure he feels supported. And for me, well, I thought it was good. Gave me a chance to really focus on my art, on the photography, without the constant pressure of trying to make ends meet back home, because let’s be honest, galleries don’t exactly line up to pay for abstract nature shots, no matter how much soul you put into them. But then my dad… he had his surgery. And you know how it is when someone you love is hurting, and you’re just so far away? It’s this hollow feeling in your chest, like someone scooped out a vital organ and just left the space empty. He’s 78, and he’s always been so strong, always the one who fixed everything, who had all the answers, even when they weren’t the answers I wanted to hear. And now he’s just… recovering. Slowly. And he sounds tired. Really tired. And all I can think about is that stupid painting I bought him for Christmas last year, the one he said he liked, but I could tell he was just being polite. Or the time he tried to teach me how to change a tire and I just got frustrated and stomped off. All the little moments you just take for granted. And you start to wonder if you made the right calls. If chasing your passion, or even just supporting someone else’s, was worth it, if it meant missing out on this. Because you can always take more pictures, right? But you can’t always get back time with your dad. And that’s the thing that really gets you, that gnawing feeling that maybe, just maybe, you prioritized the wrong things. Even though you had good reasons. Really good reasons. And now here I am, thousands of miles away, looking at my phone and wishing I could just teleport back home, just to sit by his bed, even if it’s just for an hour. Just to tell him I love him. Again. And maybe really mean it this time, the way he deserves. Because you know that feeling, when you realize something’s more important than you ever let yourself believe? That’s me. Right now. At 2 AM. In a country I barely know.