And I think my answer changes about every hour.
Usually as I finish my aerial arts class, I feel waves of appreciation for my placement and my circus family and when I step outside, either into the rain or the sun, I turn my face upwards and soak it in and want to keep doing this forever.
And then while I sit on the bus and stare out the window the waves of missing wash over me and I think about sitting on the 43 going up Haight St in San Francisco and walking home from the bus stop almost every day of high school and I miss it, I miss my neighborhood and the hilly streets and the bus voice that tells me to please reserve the front seats for seniors and people with disabilities in three different languages.
And then I get to school, and I start chatting with the students, and the teachers tell me "Oh, we have some questions for you! What semantic difference do you interpret from 'I could have gone' and 'I might have gone?'" (I'm not sure, I guess it sounds like "might" means we don't know if you did go or not and "could" means it was possible, but you didn't?) "What's the word for an older man who pursues younger women?" (There is none-- we have a word for an older woman who pursues younger men, "cougar," but it is so normalized in our culture to have an age gap the other way around that there is no name for it) "Is it common for people to move to different cities throughout their life?" (Yes, spending time living outside of your hometown is often a sign of "success," or "getting out"-- it's definitely the norm to move around, which is pretty opposite Argentina, although it is becoming more accepted in the States for graduates to move in with their parents due to student debt, high cost of living, and the competitive job market). I get involved in these discussions and think about how much I have learned from everyone here, how many conversations I would never have had, how many conversations I haven't had yet, and I'm not sure if I'm ready to go.
Then I'm waiting at the bus stop in the dark and thinking about what I'm going to make for dinner when I get back home at 10:30 or 11pm and I feel ready for an earlier schedule, ready to go back to a day job and to cook dinner in the kitchen I know so well and share meals with my parents.
When I left for Argentina, I wasn't ready-- there was no way to be ready. I hadn't been ready for the phone call informing me that a spot had opened up for me, and I hadn't been ready to say goodbye to the kids and staff I worked with, and I definitely was not ready for life in Argentina. But there was no time to think about ready or not-- I just had to go.
This is the opposite. I have lots of time, now, and I'm spent many hours planning to leave and planning my parents' visit. I've spent time thinking about leaving, thinking about what I'll do when I get back, setting goals and writing job applications and getting organized. And I'm not sure if all of that time will make it easier or harder.
Am I ready to go back? Yes, and also no. Funny enough I think I'm a lot less ready now than I was a few months ago.
I don't count down the days any more, and they seem to be passing faster.
Now, instead of going through each day thinking about how I am one day closer to coming home, I feel a pang of sadness as I realize how close I am to having to say goodbye to this new home.
But the longing for San Francisco is still there, and I still miss being close to my family, and I still think a lot about the possibilities that I'll be jumping into when I get back.
It's also strange to notice this even in the way I perceive the seasons here. We just came out of winter and it's technically spring, but part of me feels like it's fall... on social media, I see pictures of the leaves changing color in my college town and people are talking about Halloween and pumpkins and fireplaces and meals with autumn squash. Here, the weather has been flipping back and forth between hot and cold, like it used to do during the fall in college.
And both fall and spring make sense for this place I'm in. Fall, which is associated with endings, with the oncoming cold and uncertainty of winter, and spring, with its new beginnings and sense of change and growth.
Although people keep asking me if I'm ready, and it is a constant thought in the back of my mind, the fact is I do still have a month left. So to be going back and forth, to feel ready and not ready at the same time-- I think that's a good place to be right now. I can appreciate the moments knowing that they are limited without dreading the ending.
A few moments from the week:
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| Ran into McGonagall on the street |
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| Figured out how to make my own quick, 1-pot, super easy mac and cheese since I ran out of my boxes of Annie's (and mmmm this version that I made was so good) |
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| Went out to a lovely Casa de té (teahouse) with a friend and alternated practicing English/Spanish while nibbling out treats and caffeinated beverages |
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| Drank mate out of my own mate for the first time |
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| Mochi decided to do some typing practice on my laptop |
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| I received this lovely plant for Mother's Day, which is today in Argentina, despite not being a mother... thinking of you, mom <3 |
This is a few seconds after Argentina's third goal, basically securing their spot-- I missed the initial shouting, but you can hear the dogs barking like nuts. The person bouncing up and down on the comfy chair is my housemate, and if you listen to the TV commentator as they repeat the playbacks, you can hear how he slowly devolves from saying full sentences into just going "MESSI MESSI MESSI FUTBOL FUTBOL FUTBOL," which tbh is a pretty accurate assessment of Argentina :P
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