Home Again, Home Again

I've been home for about 4 days now. It's been okay. Okay, I mean in terms of not freaking out. Great, in terms of seeing my family again. But I don't think I'm going into readjustment mode yet because I don't feel like I'm really home yet. I'm leaving on Sunday to go to South Africa for two weeks. (It was cheaper and easier for me to fly from America to South Africa than from Cameroon to South Africa. Plus this way I don't have to tote my stuff all over the continent.) After that, I'll be looking for a job and a car and an apartment, so then... I'll be home for real.

I talked to my friend Rebecca on the phone yesterday. She was a PCV in Cameroon with me, but left back in March due to extenuating circumstances and a broken collarbone, so she's already been through the readjustment. She said the first month was okay because she was happy to see everyone, and then she had her crisis. Freakouts at Wal-Mart, irrational anger at the culture, and whatnot. When we were hanging up, she snorted and said, "Have fun with readjustment." By my calculations, if I run the same schedule as Rebecca, I should hit rage and fury right around Christmas. Looking forward to it.

It is kind of strange being here. I mean, it's not like it's not home. And I did come back once to visit about 15 months ago. But still. I got a new phone and I didn't have to argue for the price. I don't have to have a death hold on my purse when I go out with the zipper always positioned towards the front instead of behind where people might sneak their hands in. It took me 10 minutes pick out a toothbrush because there were so many. And people here don't greet. Is it so crazy to say hello when you pass someone on the sidewalk? America is weird.

In a way, I don't feel like I should be here yet, like Peace Corps was way too short. I keep having dreams about still being there, about getting ready to leave and knowing that I should leave but not being able to. Other volunteers, ex-boyfriends, Cameroonians all pop up, and in some way, whether emotionally or physically, hinder my leaving, and tell me that I have more to do before I can go. The place, the people, and the work are still very much on my mind and very much a part of me, but it's over. All of the sudden, the cord was cut, and that life is finished, and I'm supposed to be back to turkey sandwiches and Grey's Anatomy like it never happened at all. I adopted a whole new life and worked like hell to make it home for two years, and then I'm just supposed to go back to normal? It's hard and strange and difficult to describe.

I took Lucy for a walk today and it started to snow. It's been about 3 years since I've seen snow. I ran for the camera to document the moment. It could be a long winter.