I think it's interesting to note the extent with which the memories of American really seem to fade. It's hard for me to picture the places and the emotions that those places evoked are a vague memory. The images of the well known things that we see everyday in the place where we grew up, are things you don't count on having to work on to conjure up a vivid image of. The fact my memories of home are fading and have lost any semblence of potency doesn't induce a melancholic disposition or necessarily effect me in any kind of negative way. In fact, I find it interesting. How 21 years of memories are gently erased in the space of a little under a year leads to imagine what it would be like were I to spend multiple years here. There is a very stong possibility of that happening as well. There has been at least once when I've panicked due to my lack of strong memory but it passed quickly. I do however miss my family and am saddened at the rapid changes my younger brother and sister are no doubt undergoing in my absence. My mothers image flashes in my mind and for an instant that image is painful. When I think of them, I'm reminded of human bonds that are stronger than anything I've encountered. The bond shared by family is one that death cannot even loose. The memories that I find difficult to remember are one of the strange changes I've undergone since I've lived here. Through this change I've been led into introspection and contemplation of just what it means to live and the ability to remember what we've lived.