The Greek philosopher Heraclitus once said that “You could not step twice into the same river; for other waters are ever flowing on to you.” Basically, everything is changing. As the river changes and flows, so do you and your life. I was a little nervous to go back home because it’s hard to predict in advance how you and your home have changed after time.
I flew from Tirana to Rome, then Rome to NYC. I spent a night in Queens and took the first Amtrak train out to Harrisburg the next morning. Michele and Todd, friends of the family, picked me up from the train station. They remarked that I’d gotten thin and laughed about how they had an entire junk food bag waiting for me in the car. I had mentally prepared myself that no one would care about life in Albania, but that wasn’t at all the case. When I came home from Germany the first time, it was all I talked about. I’d like to think I’m better prepared this time around. The other thing is that I can talk and talk and talk and talk, but it’s still very difficult to capture just exactly what it’s like here.
From the train station, we went to drop my stuff off at the house and then up to the hospital. Since there is a camera on Mom’s floor, we had her paged to come down to the snack bar. As she came out of the elevator, she looked at Michele and then at me, and it took a split second to sink in. That would become my favorite part of surprising people – that brief second where they look at me but can’t put together the fact that I’m standing there. She burst into tears in the hospital hallway and hugged me. As I told my host mom this story in detail, she started tearing up. She thought it was unfair that I didn’t tell my mom in advance that I was coming home, where I insisted that surprising her was the best way to go. “You’ll understand someday when you’re a mom,” my host mom said. From there, we called my dad from an office on mom’s floor, but not before she introduced me to everyone and struggled to put the correct key in the door. I went home with Michele and had a coffee until my dad got back, and we went out for celebratory steaks at Front Street.
I spent the next two weeks in a comfortable state of disorientation, feeling often like someone who just plopped down from another universe, experiencing things for the first time. I learned about Silly Bandz, packages of shaped rubber bands that cost as much as I spend on food for a couple days. In the year and a half since I’ve been gone, Smartphones have entered a completely new level; practically foreign to a person used to a green-screened Nokia.
The trip home also gave me a sneak peek. What I learned is that it will all be alright. All of it. The seven months I have left in Albania, the continuation of my work here and my return home. I know I can do it, even as winter approaches and brings its own unique problems. I don’t feel quite as afraid anymore about my life in the US post Peace Corps and what going home will be like, even though I know it’s only been 2 weeks there and I still don’t have many answers to my questions. I’m just trying to prepare myself mentally and emotionally for the changes and tough decisions that are coming and the test run really helped.
And all the travel time brought time for reflection. I feel set free from some of the more negative aspects of my life. Time, distance and thought have gone a long way. I know that in a year, the things that weighed so heavily upon me will be of little significance. It’s amazing, the difference in the perception of time. In Albania, we have nothing but time while our people in the US scramble. In the US, I barely had any time to myself, days and nights full of activities. I’m pleased about that, pleased to be free again with nothing but possibilities and opportunities. With the remembrance and growth caused by experience and pain, but without the weight.
