Tears in the Airport

As a nomad I've adjusted to being away from the people and things that matter most to me. I've found ways to make the distance and moving every couple of years bearable because there's no other way for me to live. But I can't deny that sometimes it's hard to be so far away. My current situation (living in Botswana as a Peace Corps Volunteer) has definitely been the most extreme situation but in many ways it hasn't been the hardest. True, I've never been this far from home nor for this long without a visit but through years of wandering I've learned to cope.

It's funny when I think about the first time I left home for good. I sat on the plane leaving Seattle-Tacoma International Airport headed to Baton Rouge Metropolitan Airport and I wept. I mean really wept. Thick tears. Snotty nose. The whole shebang. I thought about everything it meant and everything I was leaving. Being separated from my parents, my brothers, my pets. Gaining independence and adulthood. Leaving my mountain, the ocean, and the sound. Surrounding myself with people and a culture to which I was not accustomed. I was excited for what I was about to do but there was an undeniable sadness and anxiety in leaving.

When I compare that to leaving last August it's hard to believe I'm the same person. This is especially true when you consider I was leaving more than just the city in which I was raised. I left my home, my country, my dog, my language, my hemisphere (two of them in fact) and every person I love. There's a world of difference between being on the other side of the country from those things where there's at least the possibility of jumping in the car to drive back and the other side of the world where unless you have a much bigger bank account than I do there's no way home.

But I didn't cry. I didn't think about what I was leaving. I only thought about the adventure ahead. Sure, I had heartfelt goodbyes but they were different. They were "see you in two years" instead of "I don't know when I'm coming back". I long ago learned that if distance matters in a relationship it's not one worth me having.

So I was surprised when a month ago when I found myself tearing up in the Sir Seretse Kahama International Airport. I wasn't leaving this time but rather greeting. I had woke at 6 am that morning to board the first bus from my village to Gaborone. I had been stressed about the prospect of hitching from the bus stop to the airport so I ensured plenty of extra time even though I ended up taking a ridiculously expensive cab. I sat at the floor to ceiling windows in the airport waiting and worrying about all of the details for this visit. It was so concerned about my guests enjoying themselves or things going wrong that I had worked myself into a kind of frenzy. And then the plane landed.

Jade with Papa Bear at
Sir Seretse Khama International Airport

That's when the first tears came but I took a few deep breaths and got myself under control. Then I saw my visitors. Walking off the plane, after 36 hours in transit, were my parents Papa Bear and J-Nutt. I was filled with such joy and relief that had to escape and the only way for that to happen was through a steady stream of saltwater. I waved my arms over enthusiastically through the windows until they saw then positioned myself outside of customs.

Of course customs is a lengthy process and by the time they had finally made their way out I had gotten myself under control again. I flew to the loving, exhausted arms of my family filled with joy to be with them again if only for a few weeks.

It's funny. I always miss my friends and family but I don't think I realise how much until I'm reunited with them. I wonder what my reaction will be when Sputnik comes.

~Jade

The Smoke That Thunders

I have reached the end of my Thursday and run out of time for blogging. So today I will simply give you a photograph of Victoria Falls or, as it was known before the British arrived, Mosi-oa-tunya (the smoke that thunders). Tomorrow when I have more time I will do a proper post. ~Jade