All is well, but...

I hoped last night's get together with my closest friends would have lessened my sadness, but it did so only temporarily. I still feel melancholy, and I feel out of place. Evening was very nice, don't get me wrong - one of those peaceful evenings when conversations scatter all over and you talk about everything that comes to mind... but (mostly) avoiding conversations about mobiles and computers as it tends to send everyone else except me and Henri to sleep. We stayed up too late, but my excuse is trying to get to Vancouver time.

Today we had my sister, her boyfriend and my uncle here for Sunday lunch. Sunday luches have always been a tradition in my family - it's time when we get together as a family, and often invite friends and other family over. Nice, too, but I ate too much of the Moscow stew my mother had made, and far too much of her apple pie.

So everything should be fine, right?

But I don't think anyone around me truly understands how I feel. I don't think anyone undrestands my bardo.