The grass was greener

Tomorrow I am leaving for Belarus, the land where I grew up.

I am leaving behind a cubicle job for a piece of my childhood.

7.50 alarm clock for sleep-ins in my old squeaky bed with a prickly mattress.

Endless nightlife for evenings with relatives and old friends.

Pizzas and burritos for homecooked, hearty meals.

Martinis for vodka shots.

Obligatory foggy evenings for puffy clouds in the blue sky and late-night dusks.

Strange foreign plants for daisies and dandelions.

Unsightly gum-trees for birches.

City parks for beautiful forests.

Fake smiles for honest grumpy faces.

Unindentified melting pot of ethnicites for the slavic surrounding.

Uncertainty of the new for uncertainty of old.

Rule of police for.... rule of police.

Fake friends for real friends.

Age 31 for age 17.

I am going home.