Feeling at Home

One month ago, I woke up to a cold Kansas morning and went to Mother Goose time at the public library with my mom and Simon. This morning I woke up sweating, took a refreshing cold shower before our water ran out, and walked around visiting the neighbors with Simon. Home, sweet home. Both places, I mean. Also, South Central Pennsylvania and Southern California. We have many homes now, and have visited all of them during our last two months of “home leave.” Sometimes we feel spread thin as we try to keep fingers and toes in far-flung areas of the continent. Mostly, though, we enjoy the depth that comes in knowing that you are welcome in many different places.

On Sunday we went to a birthday party for one neighbor and a baptism of another. It was one of those afternoons in which everyone is outside on porches or in the street, accompanied by plenty of loud music and talking. We were sitting on our neighbors’ porch, eating chop suey, chatting, and trying to keep an eye on Simon, who was working the crowd, showing off his new talking and walking skills. A group of kids was playing Uno on our front porch, waiting for us to be done "visiting" so they could come in and read books and play with Simon. I was struck with how much I felt like a part of things. We know people here. Their kids come to our house every day, we share special foods and celebrations together, we rely on each other for a variety of needs. We will never exactly fit in like Nicaraguans, but we are still part of the fabric somehow.

There is something beautiful about going home to friends and family and participating in the rituals and traditions of those places and people. It is exciting and sometimes you don´t even want to sleep at night because you don´t want to miss anything. There is also something beautiful about coming home to the rituals and routines here. We all (especially Simon) have been sleeping more peacefully and enjoying the consistency of the life we have carved out as a family here.