11 August 2014

Whirlwind

It's odd sitting at this familiar computer, typing on a familiar keyboard, listening to the familiar white noise of traffic outside this familiar window. It's odd because it doesn't feel familiar anymore.

I am in Oregon.

Wait, what?

Yes, you read that right. No, I didn't give up on Tijuana. My father, God love him, is quite ill, and my mother flew us home to visit him.

The backyard that I grew up in feels like the Amazon jungle
these days; it feels weird to be here.
However, this house, these walls, this furniture, these dishes; all of the things of a previous life of mine, no longer feel familiar to me. My fingers are looking for the keys on the Mexican keyboard. I wash all of my dishes right away, not for cleanliness, but because I have a (semi) irrational fear of the water not turning on. I have to remember to speak English to my mother. I am shocked every time I open the refrigerator, and it is FULL of food.

As I lay in my familiar bed, the one I didn't want to leave behind, I am reminded so much more of how I don't need it as much as I thought I did. (I won't lie, I am excited to have all of my scrapbooking stuff- I did miss that). My precious books that I love so much, they are still right here in the boxes that I put them in. I have clothes here, clothes that I don't really need. My children have toys here; in Mexico they play with sticks and rocks and are happy with that.

As I'm caught up in the whirlwind of a last-second trip, I am struck by the excess that is life here. There is so much stuff. The toys, the clothes, the gadgets- things that I have forgotten about. There are things, like a clothes dryer, that seem foreign to me. I made spaghetti without having to go to the store and buy water. It's not a reverse culture-shock as much as it's looking at my life with new eyes. I see things through a different lens than before. I'm not sure what kind of lens I'm looking at things with now, but I know it is not the same.

The thing I miss about Oregon the most: grass.
I do know that I hope to return home to Tijuana as soon as possible. I spent enough time without my husband and I miss little Emilia as if she were my own flesh. Being away from her is just as painful as being away from Cecilia or Isaias.

It was a nice treat to get to come home, put my toes in the grass, and spend time with my parents, because I have missed the people here. I am not missing the life I've left here. I'm not missing my stuff as much as I swore I would. Mexico is a simpler life. It is a life without all of the excess. I'm quite ready to go back to it.

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