I always assumed my desperation for community stemmed from my transitory lifestyle as a child. But I think I might be wrong. I wasn't a lonely kid. I didn't have a ton of friends, but I hardly noticed because my family was extremely close. I had as wholesome of a childhood as I could have hoped for, and of course I didn't realize how rare it was until I left it all behind. As an adult, my investment and expectations in relationships are high. I see myself demanding a lot from my friends and community. Often too much. This week, I finally realized I'm not trying to attain something I never had as a nomadic Third Culture Kid. Instead I'm working to reclaim that deep sense of connection I once enjoyed. I still love my family, but now I have to miss them, too. It's impossible to ignore the distance between us when they exist as pixels on a fragile glass screen. It's been two years and counting since I last saw them in three dimensions. But not much longer until it's time to pack my bags for Italy. Soon and very soon. But not soon enough.