I'm having a hard time sitting still these days. I'm restless. As a veteran photojournalist working in and out of conflict zones around the world for the last five years, sitting still and watching what's happening in Lebanon, Israel, Iraq, my beloved Afghanistan, and Darfur (does anyone remember there's a genocide going on?) is too hard.

My travel bag sits packed on the floor of my bedroom at the ready. I see it out of the corner of my eye when I wake up in the morning. But these days I'm more likely to pack my kayak gear and tent for a weekend of serenity exploring a river. I'm in recharge mode. I came home for some peace.

Close friends and family are happy to see me staying put for a while, enjoying this beautiful MN summer, but for me having down time and recharging my batteries is tough. It's tougher than sleeping for days on a bench in Istanbul airport fighting off Russian men drunk on vodka. It's tougher than living on Power bars for a week at a time. It's tougher than sleeping on the floor of an unheated hospital during winter in the tribal areas of Pakistan while aftershocks from the earthquake crack the ground around me. It's tougher than being brave when you're so scared you just want to roll into a ball and cry.

Many of my dedicated colleagues are out there now covering the stories that wouldn't be told if they weren't brave enough to go in to these places where angels fear to tread. They're a voice for those trying to survive in the most difficult circumstances. The reason I do what I do is to help put a face on the conflicts.

Staying put and recharging my batteries is tough all right, but for the innocent men, women and children caught up in these areas of war with no river to escape to, no peace to clear their head and recharge their batteries, tough doesn't even scratch the surface.

I need to go back.