Five weeks.
I’ll be in America in five weeks. That kind of blows my mind right now. Sometimes the World Race feels like it will just go on forever, the end always a thought but never a reality. I have recently had dreams of brownie sundaes, English muffins, and chik-fil-a. I think I have had chik-fil-a once in my life. I can’t explain myself.
The last ten months have confirmed my passion for nursing as well as my love for Chicago. I am excited to get home and start using my hot new nursing license.
While I am ready for America, I don’t know if America is ready for me. It’s questionable.
Will I have lost all driving abilities? “Oh, so the lines aren’t just suggestions?” “What side of the road should I be on?”
After a year of being called Gringa, Mzungu, Muganga, and my personal favorite “Hey Baby”, will I respond to my actual name? (translations: white girl, white person, healthcare professional, and the universal creepy “hello”)
Can I go back to a life where “mango” was just an artificial flavor rather than a delectable fresh fruit?
Where will I get my ego boost when strangers don’t run up to hug me or stare at me as I walk by?
I think I vaguely remember what it is like to live, walk, sit, run, eat, breathe, and use the bathroom alone…but now I am not so sure.
Maybe I will miss the five outfits on rotation for the last year. Then again, maybe not.
What will sleep be like without the banging of metal, the blare of loud music, the sound of screaming babies, the Muslim call-to-prayer, or the nocturnal crowing of roosters?
Life will be different. Even though I am going back to the same place, I am not the same person. That’s okay because I don’t think anyone at home is the same, either. Friends are married or pregnant. The latest pop culture is unrecognizable. I heard who won our presidential election through a Romanian pastor and was informed of the hurricane on the East Coast through email.
I’m excited to go home, though. I don’t have to be overseas to experience adventures. Life is all about perspective, and I choose to have a great time.
Besides, some things--like my mom’s homemade cookies–are worth going home to.
