Can’t seem to get back home. I’m home but I’m not home. I’m here but I want to be there. Tried to explain to a friend but couldn’t make it make sense. This is the second week that I’ve been home and two nights ago while sitting in the family room with my husband was the first time it felt like the home that I left ten months ago. It looks the same and kinda feels the same but it still doesn’t feel right. Or maybe it feels too right.
I am disconcerted. Can’t get my bearings. When I drive down streets that I’ve driven a thousand times, I’m just a little bit unsure if I’m going the right way. Not sure if they’ve changed something since I’ve been gone. Then I realize that everything’s actually the same. Nothing has changed and that should be comforting, but I’m still testing to make sure.
When in the UAE, I kept referring to it as the Twilight Zone, because many things were the same, but just a little bit different. The beautiful decorated cakes looked the same, but the different flour made them task different. The KFC chicken looked the same, but the oil they used made them taste different. So, maybe I’m still in the mode of testing to be sure everything is as it should be.
Then I have to remember that ten months really isn’t that long. It was long enough for them to begin work on the new subway extensions to the airport and for the grandchildren to grow a few inches, but not long enough for any real significant changes. I guess the only real change was within me. I just need to settle down and enjoy and accept the comfort of the sameness.