I’ve been home now for 24 hours. Things are great, weird, but great. I don’t know exactly how to describe the way I feel. On the one hand, I’m so happy to be with my family, but I’m following my Mercy Ships friends on Facebook as they prepare to leave the Canary Islands for the voyage to the Congo and I wish I were there too.
I’m caught between two worlds. I love my family and friends here in the USA. But I’m not the same. It seems like the longer I’m away from them, the farther away my heart is as well. Does any of this make sense? My family loves me and supports me, but they don’t ask about my life, probably because I tell them everything happening via the telephone and newsletters. It’s just weird.
I’m really looking forward to Saturday. Galen is coming up from Florida for a week with me and his brother. Three amigos together again. 😄 Robert is already planning what we can do in the way of hikes in the Pocono mountains. I can’t wait. Since Galen came back from Haiti, he gets it, the weird disconnect from everything American culture.
I’m filled with a surreal angst I don’t know how to handle. Or maybe it’s jet lag?