When I think about
home, I think of silver rain falling through darkness, as early as 4:30 pm. I
think of the fragrance of moist forest duff, burning firewood, and my family’s
hugs mingling in the fresh air. I think of enchiladas, wheat toast with Brummel
and Brown’s, and Annie’s white cheddar macaroni and cheese.
Outside my window
here, white clouds and grey clouds drift away from me across the blue sky,
although our classrooms have been freezing cold for the last two weeks. My
roommate sits at our hotel desk chatting on QQ as I write this – it’s Sunday
and we’re both taking a slow day to catch up on homework and the nothing we’ve
wanted to do all week. She loaned me a warm sweater which has been a lifesaver
in the suddenly “cold” weather that I’ve grown weak against in these four
months in the Spring City.
Kunming’s buildings
and faces, my tears and laughter, the fresh flowers on the corner of “Culture
Alley,” and friends’ increasingly fluent Chinese conversations over a delicious
dinner that made us all sick pause for a moment to regard me before fading back
into my memory. Every day the thought “I want to go home” rises up in my mind.
But I don’t know exactly what that means anymore. I know in one week I’ll be
making that long journey home, the reverse of the plane ride I took six months
ago. Will all my gifts make it through customs? How will Portland, Oregon look
through the grey clouds as my airplane tilts down? How will facing those I left
behind, but never stopped loving feel?
Of course I still
have to edit two essays, write two more, take a test, and give three
presentations, but these are the last days with my friends and teachers. I need
to write thank you cards, find a place to donate the clothes I’m not taking
home, pack my suitcase and buy snacks for the plane. But this last week feels
nothing like the end, nothing like how I thought it might. I feel more content than
I expected: My experience has been completely fulfilling so I am ready to go
home for the dark, cozy winter, but I also know I will miss the life I made
here.
