I realised that I was excited about coming home about two weeks before my trip ended, which was a silly thing to do, because I spent the rest of my time in Exotic South America counting down the days until my return to Beloved Canada.
And suddenly... I was home. And suddenly, I didn't know what to write. I figured I should write a closing post to let you readers (Muchas gracias for all your enthusiasm over the past few months!) know how everything wrapped up... Was it "happy ever after"? Of course I don't mean that this is the end of the story, but I think you know what I'm getting at... I thought of it as the, "Hooray!! I'm home!.... Now what?" edition of the blog. But that's about as far as I got. I just couldn't pin it down with words.
There were only three things I knew for sure:
1. I missed Ambue Ari.
2. I missed fresh (as in, hack-a-chunk-off-a-mango-and-put-in-a-blender-fresh) mango juice.
3. My old friends are wonderful.
It's so nice to come home and find that someone actually noticed you were gone! I was not expecting the huge outpouring of love and welcome I got from everyone! Thank you all so much.
At first, being home felt totally normal. I think, after moving every couple days for a few weeks that even my own house felt like just another stop I would be leaving soon. The weirdness started to set in as realised I wasn't going anywhere! After only a few days, I felt like none of it (the last three and a half months of my life) had actually happened. And I was kind of panicked at the thought that everything I experienced would just fade away. That's one of the dangers of traveling alone, more than mugging or loneliness or eating solo; not having anyone who experienced everything as tangibly as you did. Though they experienced things differently they are proof that you were there(!), you did that(?!); that you lived it, not dreamed it.
Shenaniganizing resumed almost as soon as I had changed out of my three-point-five months wardrobe and into something I hadn't worn in over two days. That night-time sandcastle stomping and the Maple-Bacon sundae that Dylan ordered ("Only in Canada!") convinced me that Home was the only place in the world right now that I could be as happy to be as Ambue Ari. Alright, fine, maybe it was a combination of the sand, the maple-bacon and the people I was with.
"We all struggle with forward motion... "Cause forward motion is harder than it sounds."
That song by Relient K pretty much sums up my transition back to my "normal" life. But life is moving forward once again and I'm looking forward to the next time I'll get to write from some far off place. For now, Oyama is far enough.
