You can never have too many thanksgivings

I knew the day would come whether I liked it or not, and so it has. The trip I had dreamed about for a decade has come to an end. Rahul and I stood outside our hostel in Antigua this morning waiting for our shuttles to come and whisk us away--he to the Mexican border and I to the airport. His came first, and it was not with dry eyes that I said goodbye and watched him head off into the darkness, minus his partner in crime for the last two weeks of his journey.

Being home is wonderful, even if the being home for good part is hard to swallow. Reuniting with my parents, my aunt and my puppy dog felt damn good, as did a hot shower, my comfy bed and all my favorite foods. My mom treated me to the Thanksgiving dinner I had missed, which was heaven, and once we had sufficiently stuffed ourselves we decorated the Christmas tree while Pavarotti serenaded us in the background. This time last night Rahul and I were gorging ourselves on 50 cent tostadas and papusas in the street, prepared by an adorable elderly husband and wife team who run their small food stand every afternoon until it's all gone.

It's jarring to leave behind the life I have been leading on the road for the past eleven months, to return in a snap to my real life back home. But if there's one thing I've learned this year, it's how insanely fortunate I am that these are the lives I get to live. It blows my mind that this year is over, but even more that it happened at all. As countless people from all over the world have told me all year, I am a lucky girl.

- Meg