Coming Home

My family has been here for the last approximately three weeks. I can't really describe it all, but it went really well. We went ALL OVER Egypt and had some good bonding time. Here are some memorable moments:

- Seeing my American mama crying with my Egyptian mama over her son having emigrated to America.

-going to Christmas Eve service with my whole family and all of my MESP friends, trying to reenact our Palestinian dance lessons in the church courtyard, then realizing the metro was closed so having to walk in a crowd of approximately 10 foreigners to catch a micro-bus.

-watching my 4 ft 8 in 14 year old host brother guide my 6 ft tall father through a massive, crowded Egyptian market

- discussing with my brother theories of morality, God, and humanity in our cruise ship bunker at 3AM.

-Cuddling in bed with my parents in the morning for the first time in approximately 15 years because it was so flippin cold in St Katherine's!

-Discussing with a stranger at 7 AM on the shore of the red sea why he should attempt not to be hung over every day like he has for the last eight years and his future as a body guard or gym proprietor in Dubai and agreeing to be his life coach over e-mail.

- receiving as presents from my Egyptian family to my American family: one purple be-jeweled bow (for me), one large purple headband that induced my mother to a massive head ache (for my mother), one letter B keychain (stands for Patrick, obviously, there isn't a P in Arabic), one letter M keychain (they couldn't remember my Dad's name so took an unlucky guess).

- Watching in horror as bombs fall over Gaza for the 15th day on TV in the supermarket with mom and my two favorite shopkeepers.

-watching my brother carry a giant blanket on his head through the streets of Cairo, looking for all the world like a very clever Egyptian woman.

-listening to 10 stanzas of my father's improvised rhythmic poetry composed to my best friend's car, nicknamed "little red chicken."

BUT the best part of all the traveling, as I'm realizing each time I do it, is coming home. And realizing that I have a home to come home to. I almost burst into tears when after two weeks of new places and faces I saw the back of my favorite supermarket guy's head, and I recognized it. I breathed in breath after breath of disgustingly polluted air of the city I love (for some reason leaving Cairo gives me respiratory problems). I called my friends, I ran along the Nile. I know this city, and I have a life here, I have a community.

I went back to work today as my family was heading to the airport. I caught up on the office drama, the new favorite lunch sandwich stands, met some new people.

I don't really care about seeing the temples and the bedouins and the camels and the sea and the mountains. But its beautiful and its worth it to leave if you can come back to something and someones, and to realize that you missed them, and they missed you. A rolling stone collects no moss, but maybe I really like the moss, moss is natural, moss is green and squishy and beautiful actually, rocks are meant to have moss. But real relationships are way better than moss, and I'm a lot less tough than a rock. I have been ridiculously blessed, I love my moss, but its not gonna wipe off so easily.

I've been having a lot of good thinks and good talks (particularly with my Dad), about what I'm gonna do when my plane leaves here. I have the ticket, I leave May 5 back to LAX. My mind refuses to picture or contemplate that day, and more still, I can't conceive of ever leaving here without knowing I'll be back soon and for a long time. However, I can't conceive of not going back to the part of me that is still in America. The part of me that is my relationships there but also my culture and language and roots. The way that several Americans I think are scared of the Middle East, I now feel scared, almost terrified of America. Its maybe even more terrifying because its my own country. What if I can never fit in there or live there again? Will I ever be content there? Or anywhere? I should be content with my life, but does that mean being content with everything around me? I want to keep growing the way that I grow here, but I think maybe I need to come home again, that larger homecoming, to realize what has changed, where I've been, who I am now. But what will I do? Will I be able to hold onto the life and hope that I want to? Will it all be a disappointment? Will I be able to relate to anyone? Will everyone have moved on without me?

And Gaza, over 900 dead, these are civilians. Do these things even register in the U.S.? If you're in the U.S. I would be curious to hear what you know about it and what you feel about it.