out on one another’s lives for almost a year. You have seen glimpses of my
stories through the sentences I have written but there is so much untold, so
much unseen, so much that is simply unexplainable.
Please know that I am glad to see you. I am excited to hug
you, to see your smile, to share life again with you. However, I am also torn.
I am leaving behind another family, new friends, and all that has become
familiar.
I will laugh at things, as will you, and we will not
understand why the other finds it funny. I will probably melt into a puddle of
tears and be unable to tell you why. I
will most likely dance for joy at random, normal American things, likes clothes
dryers and sheets, and it will seem silly.
I am two weeks from landing on US soil again and already I
feel the pressure. It lurks in my thoughts and it invades my dreams. I cannot
tell you what is next because I do not know. I cannot tell you how I will pay
my bills or afford normal commodities of American life. I cannot fathom how to neatly
summarize a year that has encompassed every emotion imaginable.
I am not sure what you expect of my return. I am not coming
home as a beautifully wrapped, crisp-cornered Christmas present. Instead, I am something
like a present that is patch-worked together with previously used paper and
half a roll of tape.
I guess what I am trying to say is that our reunion may look
a little differently than expected. I am asking for your love and patience,
sprinkled with a little grace and mercy, as we both adjust to my return.
