It escapes my mind, sometimes.

But I was driving along today, thinking about what I'm going to be doing in the next little while. Then I remembered...

Another Christmas sans ma famille.

When you've lived away from them for so long, things tend to get lost from time to time. Birthdays, for example, I can never remember. Especially my dad's, and I don't know why.

Then you wonder what they do for Christmas. How have they been doing. How are things at work for them, if I even knew what they did for a living. I even wonder if they ever think of me much, though I'm sure they do.

But it's all so far removed, sometimes, I literally forget that they exist.

Perhaps a return isn't such a bad idea...