Tuesday, July 22, 2014

It's not easy to write a wrap-up post.

I know that we haven't posted in months, and for I while I struggled to figure out why I couldn't bring myself to write.  But it hit me last night: I wanted to wrap everything up nicely, tie up our experiences and return in a pretty bow, and end our blog with a final post that would be sweet and flawless and provide the perfect conclusion to our Moroccan life while simultaneously being an introduction to our American life. 

And nothing is really like that, right?  So why is it so hard for me to admit these things?  

We are still grieving.  Now that Ramadan is here, we remember how magical the Moroccan nights felt when, after breaking fast with dear friends, we would walk around town and then have a soda at La Piscine, the local swimming pool that became a gathering spot during warm Ramadan nights.  Occasionally, I'll hear a noise in the distance that sounds like the call to prayer, and for a second a wave of sadness washes over me and I miss hearing that call five times a day. We miss seeing the ocean in Essaouira and roaming the foothills of the Atlas Mountains.  We miss our friends who were kind to us and the meals that they shared with us.  As we see photos of our fellow volunteers still in Morocco, we feel both proud of their accomplishments and a twinge of jealousy over their successes (knowing in our hearts how rich and deep and beautiful and hard and painful those successes can be).  We wish we had done better, learned more, traveled more. We wish it had worked out for us.


La Piscine, during the daytime

The ocean, Essaouira


Hiking in the Atlas Mountains

We are still getting our feet under us. I knew that coming home would be challenging.  But I didn't think that, as August approached, I would still feel so lost.  The job hunting process has been a real self-esteem crusher.  Despite some part-time successes, I'm still writing countless cover letters and prepping for interviews in the hopes of finding the right full-time position.  Luckily, my better half is working for a fantastic organization, and we are able to live independently.  We've resumed morning runs, and we live in a great neighborhood within walking distance from an ice cream shop.  On the outside, we look exactly the same.  But, inside, we've had an incredibly transformative experience, and we are still figuring out how to share our new selves and stories with our friends and family.


Our lovely welcoming committee on the evening we landed back in Texas,
sans bags (they arrived about a week later)

We are still thankful.  I recently saw a former colleague who I don't keep in touch with very often. "I'm so glad you're back," she said, hugging fiercely.  "I was worried about you.  I prayed for you."  You know what?   We felt that.  We felt supported and cared for when we were in Morocco, and we still do.  In Morocco, people sent us emails and letters and packages and prayers.  And our Moroccan friends shared food and supplies and stories and hospitality.  Now that we are home, our family and friends have provided us shelter, transportation, meals, and listening ears.  We've been able to be part of so many wonderful things:  welcoming our new niece, spending Mardi Gras with my grandmother in Louisiana, attending music class with our nephew, watching my dad perform a few gigs, hiking in trails around my mom's new home, celebrating the 4th of July with Willie Nelson, reconnecting with our religious community, and sharing many meals with friends and family. Thank you for being patient with us.

Transitions are hard, they always are.  Even when you're making the best decision for yourself.  We continue to take baby steps like our friend Bob Wiley, and we are so grateful that you walk with us.  



This is the wrap-up post, y'all.  Check, and thank you.

1 comment:

  1. This is great Britt. Honest, touching, and fortuitous as we're 9ish months from probably experiencing some of this. Also we JUST watched that movie. T'bark Allah 3likum.

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