When my father was dying I wrote memories of the childhood I had with him. I wrote in my native language, Danish, and gave him a long, long brain dump of everything that came to mind in the short period I had. He enjoyed reading my perspective of events he could recall to greater or lesser extent.
2015 was a big year. Not because it was longer (not even a leap year), but because I experienced much, much more than I normally do. Time is very much elastic and subjective.
In late 2014, I went back to Denmark, my country of birth to reconnect with my first culture, to have a foot on the ground in the country I chose to leave behind 24 years ago and to connect with my growing family.