I am in Oregon.
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.
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.|
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.