A few weeks ago I was incredibly excited about moving to New York. I sold all my stuff, packed my bags, had my going away party, and left my apartment in San Francisco. All that stood in the way was a three week trip to India. "Why can't I just skip the trip and go to NY?" I joked.

Those three weeks turned out to be the best three weeks of my life, and I was crying in the airplane on the way home. It's strange how attached I am to India and my family there, even though I never lived in India and I've only been a few times in my life. Even the last time I was in India, I was very sad to leave. It took me a week or two to get over the shock of being in the US again.

But this time it's much worse, because I'm not going home to San Francisco, to my friends, my apartment, my bed, my shower. I'm going back to New York, to Grant's studio, far from my parents, far from my friends, far from my cars, far from Apple, far from everything I know. My time in India was full of good-byes, to my family, my Apple friends who were there, and then my dad.

Spending time with my dad was the most amazing part. He's such an incredible person, exactly who I want to become. He's great with people, keeps in touch with friends from 30 years ago, and he knows how to get stuff done. He's retired and enjoying life. He has so much energy, even I couldn't keep up with him night after night. On the trip he really took care of me and my friends to make it an unforgettable experience.