Settling In Again
We went on an adventure-- traveling across continents (N America and Europe) and oceans (Pacific and Atlantic). I took my toddler to Big Important European cities and also to no-name American rural Edens. In the course of 6 weeks of traveling we saw important sites, heard a hundred different languages, used dozens of public bathrooms, and crossed paths with thousands of people with lives and worldviews all radically from us.
Rosie learned how to say, Bonjour, Au Revoir, Merci, Pardon Moi, WC, and "I live in Hawaii." And now we're home.
Getting off the airplane the passengers underwent a transformation: they turned from a group of tired strangers into a mob of giddy tourists. We transformed too-- we shed our traveler skin and became-- just ourselves again. At home.
Coming back, I noticed the vividness of the shiny dark green leaves, the bright reds and pinks and rainbow oranges of the flowers along the freeway, the dense golden light.
And somehow my malihini-meter has been reset to Zero-- everything feels as unfamiliar and novel and foreign as when I first moved here, 3 years-plus ago.
Gradually, I'm regaining my at-home footing, while trying to remember the traveler's broad perspective of this enormous world-- enjoying mangoes from the neighbors tree, but still savoring the last few inches of our Dutch smoked gouda, while the flavor and memory lasts.
Rosie learned how to say, Bonjour, Au Revoir, Merci, Pardon Moi, WC, and "I live in Hawaii." And now we're home.
Getting off the airplane the passengers underwent a transformation: they turned from a group of tired strangers into a mob of giddy tourists. We transformed too-- we shed our traveler skin and became-- just ourselves again. At home.
Coming back, I noticed the vividness of the shiny dark green leaves, the bright reds and pinks and rainbow oranges of the flowers along the freeway, the dense golden light.
And somehow my malihini-meter has been reset to Zero-- everything feels as unfamiliar and novel and foreign as when I first moved here, 3 years-plus ago.
Gradually, I'm regaining my at-home footing, while trying to remember the traveler's broad perspective of this enormous world-- enjoying mangoes from the neighbors tree, but still savoring the last few inches of our Dutch smoked gouda, while the flavor and memory lasts.
Welcome home! I missed your posts.
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