I took the yellow brick road, clicked my heels, and went back home. But I returned to a much changed world. I felt like a foreigner, needing a passport to cross state lines. I’m not even sure if I’m still in the same country. A Stranger in a Strange Land. There’s too much light and my eyelids hurt, burning with every blink. My shoulders are stiff, my head is heavy. My pen keeps writing even when I don’t know what to say. I feel stronger when I don’t speak, conserving words, saving water in a drought. I speak only when I need strength. Burrowing into my skin, shine under the sky like a sunflower. If/when I go home, who will have changed? Two years gone, the prodigal daughter, welcomed with open arms to a brand new day.