This is my last post from India.
This week has been a series of long, painful goodbyes to neighbors, friends, and places I've grown to love. It seems, with each final break, the moment I turn my back and walk away, a little piece of my heart breaks free from my body and remains behind.
This morning, as I fed the street dogs that live across the street--Scratchy and Gimpy--I found myself wiping away a stray tear or two. "I wish I could bring you with me," I whispered as they nuzzled my hands.
I found myself smiling sadly as I posed with, and then bought vegetables I didn't need from, my vegetable lady Vena.
I drank in the cacophonous colors of Rattan Pol--the vivid reds, purples, blues, and greens that don't exist at home--and relished the sounds, smells, and bodies that crowded the narrow streets.
I joked, for one last time, with Karsen-bhai, pretending that his scandalous jokes were, in fact, scandalous.
Last night, as we watched TV with the Shahs--the family across the hall that we've grown close to--I found myself mentally storing the sound of Lav, Bhoomi, and Parita's laughter.
I have been, truly, transformed by this experience. I feel, as I write these words, gratitude and sadness well up inside my chest. I am reluctant to leave this place; I fear I may never return.
And yet, a part of me knows I will. This place is home, now. These people and places belong to me now, and I to them.
This week has been a series of long, painful goodbyes to neighbors, friends, and places I've grown to love. It seems, with each final break, the moment I turn my back and walk away, a little piece of my heart breaks free from my body and remains behind.
This morning, as I fed the street dogs that live across the street--Scratchy and Gimpy--I found myself wiping away a stray tear or two. "I wish I could bring you with me," I whispered as they nuzzled my hands.
I found myself smiling sadly as I posed with, and then bought vegetables I didn't need from, my vegetable lady Vena.
I drank in the cacophonous colors of Rattan Pol--the vivid reds, purples, blues, and greens that don't exist at home--and relished the sounds, smells, and bodies that crowded the narrow streets.
I joked, for one last time, with Karsen-bhai, pretending that his scandalous jokes were, in fact, scandalous.
Last night, as we watched TV with the Shahs--the family across the hall that we've grown close to--I found myself mentally storing the sound of Lav, Bhoomi, and Parita's laughter.
I have been, truly, transformed by this experience. I feel, as I write these words, gratitude and sadness well up inside my chest. I am reluctant to leave this place; I fear I may never return.
And yet, a part of me knows I will. This place is home, now. These people and places belong to me now, and I to them.
May 23, 2012 at 1:28 PM
Very interesting and lovely post.
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