I have about a week before I see you and I’m so excited! I can’t believe it’s been 11 months. If I were to sum up what those months have been for me in very vague terms it’s been a very long trip with fast days. It’s been harder than I imagined and just as strange as I knew it would be and probably more enlightening than I realize. And in some ways that’s not going to end just because I come back to you.
Actually, I have a slight detour planned. I’ll be back in Phoenix for 2 weeks before I go to Spain to walk the Camino de Santiago from the beginning. I’ll be home again around the middle of October. I don’t think that should change any of what I have to say here though.
I’ve been thinking about what coming home will look like for a while in an attempt to mentally prepare. I’m not sure it’s working. I’m still not sure if it’ll be overwhelming to be in a room full of people when I can understand everything they’re all saying. How disturbed will I be when I can’t find that weird fruit I really like in the grocery store? Is the silence and solitude I’ve been looking forward to really going to be as peaceful as I imagine? I guess I’ll find out soon.
One thing I do know is that I’m so excited to come back to all the people who’ve been more supportive than I ever could have imagined over the last few years. I’m looking forward to sitting across the table from you and hiking with you and crashing your family gatherings because I still need you. I would even invite you to my gatherings, but I’m currently homeless, which is actually a more freeing feeling than I had previously imagined.
I have some requsts:
I’ve missed living life with you and I’m so looking forward to catching up on all the things. I want to hear about your babies and job and new home and haircut and the birthday party for your niece that I missed while I was gone. If I see you in the next few months and you want to bless me just tell me all about the weird thing that happened with your neighbor and feed me cheese. I promise you that’s what I want. I have stories to tell too, but I really want to hear about your dog first.
Give me grace when I’m answering your questions about the last year. Chances are the answer to a question may be different depending on the day and where I am in the process of putting all the pieces together and finding my place again. Everything from the blank stare to a long trek into a random tangent are not only possible, but probable responses from me.
There may also be a period of time during which I will be incapable of making decisions. The severity of this condition may vary a bit as I get my bearings and eventually reboot. I don’t foresee it lasting very long and I apologize in advance for any ways in which this may make things confusing or frustrating.
I know I’ve changed in the last year, but I couldn’t tell you how right now. What that means is I have no idea how those changes are going to interface with everyone and everything I’m coming home to and all the ways you’ve changed. That unknown feels just as big as the expanse I faced when I left for the Race last October… same size, different shape.
So for now I just want to say thank you.
Thank you in advance for welcoming me back.
Thank you for following me all around the world.
Thank you for sending me.
Thank you for the grace you’ve already given me for emails not sent and texts not returned in a very timely manner.
Thank you for loving me even when I have such a terrible time getting those words out of my own mouth… I ….. love . …. …
Thank you for choosing to be a part of my family even if we don’t share a bloodline.
If we do share genes and you’ve chosen me, I don’t see that as a small thing either. I don’t take it for granted.
Thank you thank you thank you.
I will never be able to repay you for what you’ve chosen to be to me.
I’ll see you soon.
