Wednesday, October 10, 2007

the places we've been

I am feeling a bit homesick lately.

This feeling comes on mostly at night, as I'm lying (laying? I can never remember this rule...) in bed, waiting, thinking, praying. Sheila and I go to bed around 9:30, so often, I'm don't fall asleep right away. Last night, with the whir of the ceiling fan overhead and my iPod in hand, I missed home. All the places I have settled over the past few years. I missed Bolivar, my grey and white home on 425th Rd. Dad sitting in the blue recliner, strumming his guitar. Mom working at the kitchen table on bills. Peter's music drifting up from the basement. I missed my dorm room at JBU. The cozy way it looked and felt with the lamps on and a cup of tea on the side table. Kristen, my roommate, always ready to drop whatever she was doing if I needed to pray, equally willing to join me in dancing around the room like a wild woman. Which we sometimes did. (We also sometimes played that fun game where you pretend like the carpet is lava and you have to move around the room without touching the floor. Yes, we were seniors in college. I loved that game.) I missed my Lake City family. The comfortable and happy home of Doug and Carol, full of friends and chances to cook, hold babies, or play an intensely competitive game of Nertz. The mountains that I saw every morning from their front step, the walk down into town past pine trees and a stretched-out sky so huge and so blue. I missed the summer weeks I spent living with my sister Rachel and her husband. Dinners of grilled chicken and corn eaten outside. Starbucks dates and grocery runs. Taking brisk walks after dinner.

But, you know what? In a few months, when I am home, and this Kolkata trip is over, I am sure I will miss India. I'll be lying (?) in bed, and I will start to think about the kids in my class, the ladies at Sari Bari, my team, Aunty and Uncle, street food, crowded bus rides, and I will miss it all. (Maybe I will not miss the crowded bus rides so much.)

This is life. This is loving and moving and living as life swings ahead. Not being able to be all places simultaneously. Leaving a part of one's heart at each place where one has loved and been loved.

Know that I miss you all.

1 comment:

  1. When you get back to the old homes and on to the new ones and the grass as you predict, looks greener somewhere else, you must remember: CONTENTMENT. It is the secret to peace and joy. May each day God grants you be enough without the yesterday or the tomorrow.