I woke up this morning with thoughts of home haunting my first conscious moments. Just as happened last Saturday, I thought of what I would be doing if I was back at home. It was nothing too overwhelming; it was just a little pang that deepened somewhat when I realized it would be two years before I could do that again. All of a sudden two years seemed like a desperately long time. I look forward to these years (I think – I hope), but in some ways I’m already longing to return. It’s that same comfortable ease that I miss. I have to work at almost everything here. I decided not to do much of anything this weekend just because of the difficulty involved. Once again it’s simply a question of language.
It already feels like I’ve been here for months and it has only been two weeks since I left. When the culture shock hits full-force in three or four months it will feel like it’s been years since I was in the States. It will be years until I return and it’s such a frightening prospect. I dread the long, dark winter and the total isolation from all that I know. Talk about culture shock.