A month since my last post. A month of reverse culture shock and English and playdates and diagnoses and crying and pills and kindergarten registration and the pool. It has been utterly strange how normal it feels to be here, the place I was worried I would only feel out-of-place in: America.
Once again, no time for writing, just living. Big living, with big thoughts. I feel like I’m in a long recovery period, moving out of a cloud into the clearing, putting on glasses to see outlines of mountains and trees I just couldn’t notice before. All the change, external and internal, has a rather silencing affect. Cannot process what has not happened, so I guess I’m just waiting for it all to happen.
I am calm in the waiting, but I am much more eager to look back on this phase and see it fully and give thanks. I cannot say when I will write more regularly, but I know it’s in my future.