All Sentiment, No Sarcasm (Almost)

One week from today I will be in America. This week is getting shorter and shorter. When I am talking to Kevin, battling the fuzzy disconnectedness to be understood, a week still seems like a really long time. When I am talking to students and see their sadness at my leaving, when I move through the goodbyes and best wishes and “happy every day,” it seems like I am already halfway gone.

Yesterday morning my friend Tammy came over to hang out. We haven’t spent as much time together this semester, and I forgot how easy she is to talk with. I can say things to her that don’t make sense, and she doesn’t worry about not understanding. She just assumes that sometimes I don’t make sense. That has to be a mark of a true friend.

Yesterday afternoon my first class of sophomore students came over for open house. I have taught them for two years and we have had a bond ever since the beginning. I feel like I know each one of them, even if I haven’t spent much time with them. They feel comfortable with each other, with me, and in my home. I put on my wedding dress and showed them my chipao. They yelled and cheered and sighed, “I want to marry!” I let them choose from piles of free things I was giving away. They went at the piles with glee, afterwards saying, “I chose this, Ruth. Thank you.” They are so polite and grateful. I was relieved to see these random things go to good homes, and I like the picture of several students wandering around campus in Asbury College shirts. One of the girls in the class, who I feel should be part of my family, made a book for me. She filled a sketch-book with colorful drawings and had her classmates write letters to me. Letters to me, to Kevin, even to our future children! It makes me laugh and cry and want to hug them all.

Kevin is leaving day after tomorrow. I know this seems silly when we have been apart for most of four months and when we are about to finally be together again--really and permantently together, but I am not looking forward to these next few days of being out of contact. At least we have been in the same country and on the same side of the world. At least we have been able to talk to each other. I am glad we have not had such a long-long-distance relationship.

Looking around my apartment, I can see that I am no where near ready to leave. Besides the exams to finish, grades to compile, final activities and goodbyes, my house still looks extremely lived-in. While most of my drawers and cabinets are emptied, the external decorations are still in place. They represent the part of me that is still resisting this change. When I see my shoes still piled up on the shelves by the door and the pictures hanging on the wall, just like they have been all year, I still feel like I belong. What makes a house a home? Sure, love and all that. But what makes a house look like home? Lamps and candles and throw pillows and curtains. I will spend most of the next four months shuffling around from place to place, living out of a suitcase. I am not yet ready to be displaced.

I sound so melancholy and sentimental. For all my dislike of Hallmark and Precious Moments (now I know I’ve offended some people), sometimes I am a little sentimental. That’s not too bad, I guess. It helps to balance out the sarcastic, cynical side that voices itself too often. See, at the heart of all that sarcasm is a sincere core. Touching, isn’t it?

I will be sad to leave. I would be sadder, but I keep thinking about donuts. I am ready for a powdered sugar, cream filled donut. America offers so many consolations for the displaced.