I was waiting for the feelings to start. For the past couple weeks, I’ve been pretty matter-of-fact about leaving. Yes, sad to leave my people, but okay with going home. Excited to see my parents. Ready to be back to normal.
Now I’m not okay with going home yet. Partly because I’ve realized you can’t ever go back to normal after five months away. You’re different. Home’s different. Articles about reverse culture shock are preparing me.
I love home, but I love here, too. And I’m feeling nostalgic.
It’s like thinking you’re ready to jump off the diving board then realizing as you’re on your way to the water that you’d rather stay on the diving board for a bit and clawing and thrashing at the air, trying to fight the inevitable splash.
Does that sound dramatic? I feel dramatic.
I started taking my pictures and maps down from my wall today. I pulled my suitcase out from the closet and put souvenirs and clothes in it.
I said my first two “goodbye”s this afternoon. They were awful because saying goodbye is always awful, especially when you don’t know when the next “hello” could be. Also, “goodbye” is such an ugly word. It’s so final. I keep wanting to defy “goodbye” by saying “see you later!”
Whether or not I’ll actually see them later, isn’t it nicer?
Oh, sentimentality! Oh, feelings! Oh, grasping at my life here!
How strange that after 5 months of adventures and learning and meeting people I find myself at the end feeling like I must have missed something because it doesn’t feel final. It feels like this is my life, and it will go on this way because that’s what life does.
But really, when has life ever stayed constant?
I don’t even know how to express this. There are just too many feelings, some of them without names. Oh, feelings! I’ll have to get back to you about how I feel when I know how I feel.