i don’t understand how i can be familiar and comfortable HERE and THERE. they are so different. The cold, hard silence of the metro to the center of Chicago to the chattered, sweaty breath of a Kombe to the centro of Carpina. yet, i am equally ME in both.
people ask how i fit. how i am transitioning. or aclamating. i am. it is easy. one foot and then the other, a plane, a train, and there you are. you arrive, keep your eyes open, give lots of hugs, and listen to the stories. you wait for them to ask the questions, and then you answer.
your body does most everything automatically. you fall into habit. into social order. into the path of least resistance. and it is good. especially with Christmas presents and foot and lights and goodwill…
but every once in awhile
i peek out of somewhere
and wonder where i am
and how i got here
and what happens next.
the feeling of
“who are you kidding?
this isn’t home.
you are missing it still.
there is more and it is out there”
this probably doesn’t even have to do with Brasil/US/Rachel drama. it is a
HOLY LONGING
and i love it
and i hate it
there is a buried me that hasn’t adjusted and probably never will
it hasn’t adjusted to the cold. culture differences. people differences.
but most of the time…
it stays buried.
