Return of the native?

I'm considering moving back to the States. Which has come out of the clear blue sky, believe me. For a long time I thought I'd never move back. I thought if I ever left the field it would be to live in London or Cape Town or Geneva or something along those lines. But the inherent difficulties in getting work permits and jobs and setting myself up administratively in a new country seems like just too much for my addled brain and exhausted self these days. I am about as dynamic as a bowl of grits.

So, now, I'm thinking maybe I head back. Which is terrifying. Every day there will be at least one moment, say, when I'm having an argument with a ministry official and they so clearly loathe me and my presence in their country, when all I want it to be away from here and not have to ever have another Africa fight ever again. And every day there will be at least one moment, say, when I'm taking a boda past the cemetery at sunset and I see all the women walking through the path with water cans on their head and the palm trees lit up pink behind them, that I think I never want to leave.

There isn't a right answer, of course. Staying and going will both have their benefits and challenges. But a decision will need to be made at some point. I hope I go against type and history and actually make a sensible one.