Airport

This place should feel foreign, yet it is so familiar. I suppose I drifted back gently. I eased my way back into civilization. I went from Armenia to Hungary to Amsterdam, to this Seattle Airport and I will soon be home. Each location became more westernized than the last, I saw things in each that I had not seen in the last months… home I am told should be a culture shock in itself, the grocery store will be eye glazing and things will seem strange. I just don’t think that will happen.

Home is where the heart is , my heart has been home. I play over in my mind every day the appearance of everything I love. I know the sound of my friends voices, well I have videos to watch as well. I know what my house looks like, despite the few changes that have taken place, I know, images are imprinted in my mind. I could still give someone directions anywhere in the city of Salem without them needing to take the freeway and I could get to those few places I have only been once. I know the price of food and gas (give or take) and unless a nuclear bomb destroyed civilization, it will still be there waiting for me though slightly altered.

Something in my soul is jumping, I laughed out loud with excitement when I saw all the green trees we flew over as we landed in Seattle. I wanted to hug my customs officer who welcomed me back to the states. I know the laws here! I know that they speak English and I have rights and nothing strange will happen, except for the fact that they took my tulip bulbs.

I look at pictures of my last six months, a part of my life that is starting to seem surreal. I know while I was gone I never once forgot home… but now that I am home will I forget the things of when I was gone? I pray not, I will re-read all my journals 5 times if I have to, but I don’t want to forget. I want to move on, yes, but to learn from the past, let it help shape my future.

There is a worker dancing out on the tarmac visible from the window in which I sit. Rain is gently dripping against the glass pane, oh my beloved Oregon rain. The clouds are grey, it is as if they are waiting just for me! I am using an American outlet and just drank good water from the drinking fountain. In the bathroom, there were toilet seat covers! I admit to not always using them in the past, but I was so excited to see them. Oh, someone just walked by with Wendy’s! Now I want a frosty. People wearing Columbia and North face and fleece jackets. News papers with current events that actually mean something to me.

All this and I am just in the airport! What more is to come? Will I notice it all? I hope so. My plane is about to board… just an hour and I am home. Home. Down the final countdown, the last leg of my trip. After almost six months of counting, an hour is like mashed potatoes to my lips. To get home it took me two days, three airplanes, two buses, two trains, and three shuttles. And I did it, all by myself.