Coming back is a process.
It was nice at first. To see people, to speak constantly in English, to visit familiar places that were once taken for granted with a renewed sense of enthusiasm.
But then something shifted. And I can't shake this unsettled, ungrounded, unraveled feeling that permeates every.single.moment.
I've been comparing notes with my roommates. They all seem to be settling into America quite nicely. But I can't help but feel like the place I'm trying to fit back into hasn't accounted for the new ways I swing my arms when I walk, because I am constantly bumping into walls and expectations.
No one asks me about Jordan. But if they did I would tell them that I miss the man with the Egyptian granddaughter who visited us at the bus stop some mornings. I would tell them that I was thinking about how a month ago on Friday I was browsing hand-made crafts at Souk Jara. I would tell them that these days I unfold the entire sheet of directions just to see that Arabic is the 8th language they are written in, and I sit and patiently sound out words I do not know the meanings of.
I can't sleep. So I watch movies with British actors just to try to lull myself to sleep on the waves of their differently pronounced words. I put on mascara just to have something to do with my hands. I read. But I start in the middle of books now because I cannot stand beginnings anymore.
Lately, I've been thinking about Budapest. About how the day before Deshani and I left, we sought out this Indian woman who threaded our eyebrows in the back of her shop, which was half liqour, half noodles. About all the bridges. About how those days were a juncture between two states of being. About how neither Deshani or I were particularly interested in reading our map, so we spent a lot of our time lost. About how it snowed on us.
At every intersection, I am learning how to be at home again. But it is happening too slowly. Everything that I cannot reach out and touch seems like a dream. When once upon a time it was terribly, wonderfully, awesomely gritty.
It was nice at first. To see people, to speak constantly in English, to visit familiar places that were once taken for granted with a renewed sense of enthusiasm.
But then something shifted. And I can't shake this unsettled, ungrounded, unraveled feeling that permeates every.single.moment.
I've been comparing notes with my roommates. They all seem to be settling into America quite nicely. But I can't help but feel like the place I'm trying to fit back into hasn't accounted for the new ways I swing my arms when I walk, because I am constantly bumping into walls and expectations.
No one asks me about Jordan. But if they did I would tell them that I miss the man with the Egyptian granddaughter who visited us at the bus stop some mornings. I would tell them that I was thinking about how a month ago on Friday I was browsing hand-made crafts at Souk Jara. I would tell them that these days I unfold the entire sheet of directions just to see that Arabic is the 8th language they are written in, and I sit and patiently sound out words I do not know the meanings of.
I can't sleep. So I watch movies with British actors just to try to lull myself to sleep on the waves of their differently pronounced words. I put on mascara just to have something to do with my hands. I read. But I start in the middle of books now because I cannot stand beginnings anymore.
At every intersection, I am learning how to be at home again. But it is happening too slowly. Everything that I cannot reach out and touch seems like a dream. When once upon a time it was terribly, wonderfully, awesomely gritty.
Hang in there!! It doesn't get easier. It's like you were once a puzzle piece that fit nice and snug in your little niche at home - but now you've changed and you don't quite fit anymore. But honestly - I learned more about myself trying to readjust New Maryam to my old puzzle than I did when I was in Ecuador!
ReplyDeleteHey Elika,
ReplyDeleteI want SO SO MUCH to ask you about Jordan! I hope we can hike together sometime soon and enjoy Alaska while you tell me about your time there and what you learned. Forgive me for not knowing the questions to ask. I'm so glad to know you.