Home is where I rest my oversized straw purse

After two years of living in Madagascar, I thought that I finally had somewhere to call home.  It is the first place that I’ve lived completely on my own, without roommates, housemates, or parents.  It’s the first place I have had to completely start anew with friendships and relationships.  Overall, I have had to work hard to feel comfortable here.  Especially after my first year of constant disappointments, let-downs, and overall feeling very discouraged, I felt like I was finally at ease and settled in my new home. 

So much so, that I figured after two weeks of traveling to the states for my best friends’ wedding, I would be very ready to get back to my new stomping grounds.  That I would be so overwhelmed by America’s food, stimulation, and all the English they speak over there that I would be thrilled to step onto a plane and come home. 

Of course, this is not how it went.  I don’t know why I thought it would be so difficult to get back into my relationships and friendships (perhaps it is because none of my friends back home are very good at keeping in touch when I’m gone *cough cough*), but it wasn’t.  The minute Zoe picked me up from the airport we were the same high-pitched, squeaky little girls that we’ve always been.  By the time we got to the valley I was already pretty good at not mixing Malagasy words into my sentences, and being with my long-time best buddies and former housemates Shannon and Wally (the now married couple) felt exactly like being at home.  Wally and I went to a Red Sox game, and I could still remember each word to “Sweet Caroline” and almost all of them to the “Star Spangled Banner” (though to be fair, I don’t think I ever knew all of them).  I fell right back in love with each and every one of my friends, back in love with the bike trails going through Northhampton, my old farm looked great and it was wonderful to see Farmer Bob and his beautiful family.  I could see how easily I could re-emerge in this area and feel not like the undergrad I once was, but like the grown-up that perhaps I have become.  Okay, maybe not go that far.   But still, I could feel like a real person. 

And now I am headed back to my other homeland.  A place, mind you, that has not only been my Peace Corps site but also where I grew up through elementary and middle-school.  I got deep mems here man; me and Madagascar go way back.  But now my mindset has completely switched, and to be honest, it was very difficult to get back on that plane.  Maybe that is normal: whenever you go on vacation it should be hard to leave right?  But I had hoped it wouldn’t be.  I had hoped I would say a light adieu to all of my buddies and be on my way.  Instead, I had to fight back (and in some cases failed to fight back) tears at each goodbye and felt like I was losing something that I had forgotten I had.  When Caitlin dropped me off at the airport it took a lot to not tell her to turn south towards Mexico (as I believe was her initial plan anyways).

So now I am heading back, stuck temporarily (I hope) in a place that does NOT feel like home.  And to be honest I am kind of freaking out.  I want to go back and re-integrate easily and happily into my village and my other relationships that I have over there.  And likely I will once again feel at home there.  But really, how many homes can a girl have?  And when will one of them actually win out and get me away from this gnawing feeling like eventually I will have to leave any home I create?