The Stone of The Fruit

I’m walking through the airport choking on salt. Then I’m running, skirt flies, flip-flops hit the tile and I never want to stop. If I sped past the gate, if I sped past the commitments... if I just kept going, turned left at denial and came back to the tiny bed, came back to my world...

The words aren’t coming easily now. On the plane all I wanted was a pen. Because the sun came up over the clouds and it was as if I had already left that world. We passed the Atlantic threshold and I was waking up on the other side. The American side. I found myself grappling with the moments that stood in my mind, the moments that had just happened before I took this seat. I willed the tears back so at least I could continue living them. But for the first time in 15 hours, they didn’t come as quickly.

Now, I’m waking up in the warm bed that’s like sleeping on a cloud. The space heater is on and the room feels like a sauna. I walk out in to the hall and look through the giant windows at the cold Missouri streets, at the cold sun that hangs in the clear sky, at the matching houses that line the block… I turn back to the bed, hide my face in the covers and let the sobs come out.

In my mind I picture I am holding on to a diamond. This diamond of experience, this precious rock that I’m squeezing so hard-- praying that it’s not going to deteriorate before my eyes.

My phone has text messages from people, but part of me is terrified to respond. I’m terrified to take a step back in to this world because of what it might do to my diamond. How is it going to change as I recollect it as experience? How is it going to change when I realize it is no longer my life, but just a chapter that can be paged through?

How are the people who have shaped my life there going to change in my mind when I try to translate them in to what can be understood here?

Perhaps it will make it easier, or perhaps I will just be more frustrated that no matter what words I use, pictures I show, videos I watch these are only a fraction of what has transpired these last five months. I will never be able to grasp all of it because the pieces only truly form the whole when you are in it. And I will never be in it again.

There are so many moments that I never want to forget. When I said goodbye to him in my room, sobbed in his shirt and asked how do you do this? I keep asking everyone, asking God, how do you do this? How do you keep everything that you have become, everything that you have seen, all the people that you have met—how do you hold them honestly when they are reshaping themselves and molding in to memories?

Because that is the hardest part: “The pain is the breaking of the shell that encloses your understanding” the shell of my understanding is breaking, it has cracked and I’m running around desperately trying to figure out which pieces go where. I sigh, collapse on the floor and realize that it is hopeless. “Even as the stone of the fruit must break so that it may stand in the sun, you must know pain.”

The Hourglass

The sand slips against the curvature of the glass. One grain at a time so you turn your head, distracted by the beautiful light coming in through the window. When you turn back the bottom is filled to the brim – the particles now forming a solid base in the glass.

Your jaw drops. You look in the mirror and your hair has grown, your face has changed. You speak and your voice is the same, but now maybe the soundwaves don’t fluctuate as much as they did. Maybe they’re grounded in something that only time can establish.

It isn’t easy for me to write about coming home. Partially because it is emotionally challenging to deal with being torn-- but also because it’s hard to explain not wanting to leave. 

Words cannot express how much I miss everyone in the states. Like I’ve said in previous entries, I think about you all of the time. But at the same time I’ve never felt so completely content and completely myself in my entire life. And it is hard to leave that.

On a lighter note, instead of going in to all of the emotions I’ve been going through lately, I’ve decided to prepare some of you for the changes to expect in me when I return:

Number One:

The use of 'just now' and 'now now' as in “I’ll be there just now” or “I’m coming now now.” 

At first, I hated that in South Africa “now” doesn’t mean this second. It actually means more like “sometime” or “maybe never if I don’t feel like it.” So if upon return I say “yea, I’m coming to your house just now” it could mean in a little bit, or it could mean I’m not coming at all. However, if I say “now now” the likelihood of me coming goes up, but it’s still not definite.

Number Two:

Dropping sentence inflection when asking a question.  

I honestly don’t know when this phenomenon occurred. But never the less, I sound like I have an accent when I ask a question because my voice no longer goes up.

Number Three:

Use of the expression “We’ll make a plan.” 

To me, this is a brilliant expression and one that I am not ready to let go of. It can be used when asked “How are you going to get to the party?” Response: “Don’t worry, I’ll make a plan.” Now, granted, sometimes these plans fail, but at least there is some security that action is being taken.

Number Four:

Uncontrollable crying for no apparent reason.

This may or may not occur, so be prepared.

Number Five:

Inability to describe the experience when asked: How was South Africa? 

I might return the question to you: and how was the last six months of your life? Hard to sum up isn’t it? But I will go in to as much or as little detail as you would like, just let me know :)

Number Six:

The use of a word pronounced 'shop' but actually spelled 'sharp' accompanied by a thumbs up. And also, use of the word scafe. 

Shop, means fine. So typical conversation: “I’m coming just now” “Sharp.” Scafe could be translated to I want some of that as in “Scafe juice, or scafe beer etc.” In return, you would give me a sip.

Number Seven

Rushing phone conversations to be less than one minute. 

For the last five months I’ve been buying air time in 12 Rand increments. I don’t have a cell phone contract, so in order to save air time, I’ve become an expert at saying everything that needs to be said under one minute. Be prepared for me to rush you out of habit, even though it will no longer be necessity.

Number Eight:

Being incredibly excited about any of the following: Taco Bell, good pizza, bagels, cheap Thai food or Mexican food, real coffee that is still inexpensive, soft pretzels, and huge margaritas. 

Chances are if you ask me if I want to go get any of the former, I will be there now now. :)

I will be home December 14, and the sand keeps slipping. Love you all.