Wednesday, August 27, 2014
Let me fix that: those who wait a long time. Ok, so maybe 50 days isn't a very long time in the big scheme of things; I'm privileged, I know. But living without furniture or art supplies, wearing only half of a wardrobe, and living with a limited book selection can get pretty old, pretty fast. Doing homework? Lay it out on the floor. Eating dinner? Sit on the floor. Trying to sleep? Sleep on the floor. With a lack of chairs, tables, sofas, beds, you-name-it, we started cracking jokes like pointing to someone else (who, of course, was sitting on the floor) and yelling, "How dare you walk on my bed with your muddy shoes?!" The floor was everything and anything you imagined it to be. In addition, suddenly four spoons between five people became a perfectly acceptable circumstance. And when the brother takes the aforementioned spoons to college, no one bats an eyelash.
Because your shipment with all your possessions is coming soon.
And then delayed.
Oh, but it'll be here in just a couple days.
Never mind, maybe a bit longer.
Ok, I think think it's really going to be here this time.
Now, after 50 days, I am so incredibly happy to announce that my formerly-empty room is now full of boxes - although this time, they are waiting to be unpacked.
It's funny. My homework is completed. I rode my bike through the neighborhood, learning to conquer the 'dutch mountains', or hills as Americans call them, once again. I've been reunited with the second half of my stringed family. My fingers are itching to peel back packaging tape and rip open cardboard boxes like it's Christmas in late August. But every time I return to my bedroom, all I can do is sit on the mattress, look at the boxes in bewilderment, fighting the urge to cry. This is one of my favorite things to do sitting right in front of me: I have a room to arrange and personalize. But I don't know where to start. It's too permanent, and I guess I don't want to face reality.
Reality says I'm here to stay. And it doesn't feel like what I signed up for.
Wednesday, August 13, 2014
So some things have changed around here. I've 'repatriated'. Which still doesn't really mean I'm home per se. I'm still camping in my house of 14 years. The walls of my room have been primed to a grey, washed and redeemed from a pink I like to call 'middle school phase'. I've purchased myself a new Canon REBEL T3i, and I really can't express how proud I am that I saved and waited for such a great reward. The first two weeks of American high school have passed, and I'm still floundering in the ocean of AP Chemistry summer work. I'm beginning to question my class choices and, more importantly, my sanity. With all the change that has happened, I keep seeing the distant, lovely faces of Europe in the new, foreign faces of the States, and continually I remind myself, 'Nope, it's not them.' But seeing the old faces from long ago has been more heartening - and exhausting - than I ever imagined.
It's been a summer, short and sweet. Kind of like a brown turkey fig.