I’ve been in the United States for two weeks now and Washington for 12 days. Everyone I missed this year is very kind and welcoming to me. They always ask:
“How is it being back?”
It’s good, I say. It’s good to see everyone. It’s funny how quickly a pot of water boils. It’s cold. It’s luxurious. It’s everything and nothing I expected.
When I had a hard time this year, I could daydream for hours about my first moments back in America. Even though I couldn’t plan it out, I had it all planned out.
I would leave C Squad as soon as we landed in Los Angeles. They would be sad goodbyes, but not forever goodbyes. Then I would immediately catch a flight to Seattle. I would be tired from the travel but I’d still go back that day. And for the first time in 11 months, I’d be traveling alone. And it would be good to feel untethered to anyone for once.
The short Alaska Airlines flight from LA to Seattle would leave during the day. I would have a window seat in the back of the plane on the right side and the wing would not block my view of Mt. Rainier, which would be rising out of the clouds and covered with snow. I would see the entire Cascade Range around it, and then we would descend and I would see forests, lights, cars, and freeways. And then we’d be right over Seattle and I’d see the Olympic Mountains in the west and the islands of Puget Sound and the unmistakable model city of Seattle beneath us. My ears would pop and I wouldn’t be reading a book because I wouldn’t be able to concentrate on anything but the view from the window. I’d be drinking coffee to stay awake for the coming day, as if my anticipation wouldn’t be enough. I wouldn’t eat the little pretzels they pass out. I wouldn’t speak unless spoken to because I’d just want to look out the window.
The plane would touch down in Washington again and the plane would taxi to a familiar gate, like C8.
I wouldn’t rush to get off the plane. I’d sit patiently and wait my turn and not even turn my phone on. And when my turn to get up would come, I’d take my backpack and mandolin and savor the final steps of my adventure before stepping back onto familiar ground.
I’d step into C Terminal and get overwhelmed. I’d go to Starbucks and buy an iced coffee as a welcome home present. I’d drink it and only then turn my phone on and text my parents, “I’m here.”
I didn’t plan what I’d think about walking to baggage claim. But I’d probably pause right before leaving the terminal and stand there for a second. Then I’d turn the corner and see my parents, sister, and brother.
I’d cry and hug them all and David and Kate would make a sign that said “Welcome back Kelsey hope you liked Canada,” because when I’m gone for a long time they pretend to forget my name as a joke.
My brother David would insist on carrying my too-heavy, now grimy backpack. Mom would take a picture of me with all my luggage in the same pose I struck at the start of the Race, and make a before and after picture. Dad would ask if I was hungry. I didn’t know if I’d say yes or no. And we’d drive home, or out to lunch, reunited at last.
That’s how I imagined it. But of course, that’s not how it happened.
C Squad left Kuala Lumpur on Tuesday, November 25 at 6:00 p.m. and arrived in Los Angeles on Tuesday, November 25 at 6:00 p.m.
When we touched down in LA, I didn’t expect to have pink eye or a boyfriend, but I had both. I’ll spare you the details about the pink eye, and the story of the boyfriend requires far more than a paragraph. But let me just say here:
While I didn’t come on the Race to meet attractive Christian guys, and that should never be the reason you choose this trip… well, sometimes, God gives you something wonderful you never asked for. Sometimes you meet someone you really get along with, and you spend a lot of time with him and have a lot in common with each other, and he’s so smart and kind and funny and easy to talk to,and then at the end of the Race, the no-dating-each-other rule is lifted and you find yourself in the surprising, strange, and delightful predicament of starting a relationship with your teammate Tony Guidotti. And by you, I mean me. That’s what happened to me.
(Tony, I’m sorry I announced our relationship and my eye infection in the same sentence but the words just flowed so naturally.)
Tony and I spent the evening after we landed unsuccessfully looking for eye drops for my eye infection, eating pizza, and talking. He flew out the next morning to Minnesota. I didn’t fly straight home to Washington. I stayed in LA at a hotel near the airport with an ever-dwindling group of squadmates to have a little more time together and to adjust to the time zone. We spent the days sleeping, ordering pizza, and going to the lobby for the wifi, which was both complimentary and functional.
We were there for Thanksgiving. We spent it watching the Macy’s Thanksgiving Day Parade, swimming in the hotel pool, and at Denny’s. On Friday morning I saw Josh, an old friend from Vassar, and we went to brunch, where I drank an iced coffee that was served in a cup bigger than many of the buckets I showered with this year. We explored Venice Beach and talked about theology and Vassar reunions and California and our lives.
On Friday afternoon I finally went home. It was good and exciting, but it was not the culmination of the last 11 months like I’d imagined it would be. Those hours alone weren’t the ultimate reward for my efforts. It wasn’t a reflective, emotional time. Instead, my return and reunion with my family tumbled into reality easily and loudly.
I had a window seat but it was a bulkhead on the left side of the plane. It was night so I did not see any mountains on our descent. I spoke to my seat mates, a couple my parent’s age who were returning from spending Thanksgiving in Mexico.
I wasn’t wearing what I’d planned to wear. I had planned to piece together my most fashionable articles of clothing (which isn’t saying much) so I’d look nice in all the pictures my mom would post on Facebook. But I was wearing jeans, which were my warmest pants. They were damp and sandy from the knees down from standing in the ocean earlier that day. I was wearing both my long sleeved shirts because that was the warmest thing I had and my body had grown more used to the Southeast Asian heat than I’d expected.
I was on Alaska Airlines, but I didn’t drink coffee. I had club soda. I didn’t stare out the window the whole time. I got bored and worked on the crossword in the back of the inflight magazine and gave up when I finished the Greek gods questions and had to face sports questions. I listened to music for a half hour or so.
The first thing I saw out the window on our descent was the plane’s lights on thick, thick, thick clouds. We were flying through clouds for much longer than normal and I wondered if I’d feel the ground before seeing it. But finally, the view cleared and I saw islands, and dark expanses of water, and city lights.
And then, we landed.
I turned my phone on immediately and texted my sister Kate: “I’m here.” She said, “Lolz.”
I was not patient about getting off the plane. Luckily, I wasn’t in the back of the plane as expected. I grabbed my backpack and mandolin and charged off the plane into, as it turned out, Terminal C.
I didn’t buy Starbucks and reflect on the year. I only stopped when I realized how cold my feet were from the damp jeans. I put socks on and replaced my sandals and burst out of the terminal where my parents and Kate were waiting for me.
Kate had a sign that said:
WELCOME HOME FROM THE AMAZING RACE KELSEY
I hugged them all and we went to baggage claim. Mom kept taking pictures. My brother David, who’s studying abroad in Beijing this semester, happened to accidentally hit a button on his phone and call Mom just as we were getting my bag. He got to be there, in a way, after all!
And Mom did take a picture of me with all my luggage, in the same pose I struck at the start of the Race, and she did make a before and after picture. We drove home, where my grandparents were waiting and surprised me! I saw everyone. And I saw our dogs and I saw our cat.
So I’ve been home for a little bit now. Sometimes it’s overwhelming to be here. Sometimes it’s daunting because after such a wild year, there’s pressure to figure out what big thing is next. But usually it’s wonderful. I take comfort that the God that sent me and was with me all year through all those adventures I told you about is the same God who’s with me now. And God knows us and gives us memories and people and opportunities we’d never know to request ourselves. Like Thanksgiving at Denny’s in LA, and my relationship with Tony, and whatever is next.
So yes, it is good to be home.
“So, now that you’re back, are you done blogging?” Not yet! My travel might be over for now, but my blogs aren’t. You can expect me to continue writing for a bit longer as I learn to live in Month 12 (and 13 and 14 and 15): America.
