My Cry

I finally cried. Last night, over a tick bite gone red and a stumped toe. I was in heaving sobs. My husband just held me through it and rubbed my back as I had my annual "I miss my family" cry. I am still less than one week back and the people that I was surrounded with everyday for a year are still very much in my daily thoughts. That doesn't mean that they are not always in my daily thoughts, it just means that the details of their nows are my now as well. We shared space, we reconnected. The girls are still saying things in English all the time but I fear everyday that the English will go and the Arabic will be all that is left. I know that is not true. I know that I studies multilingualism and relish in raising my daughters trilingual and I know that I am so so so proud of them for already being able to understand three languages BUT (and there is always a but) I fear the English will go. I fear it will become foreign again. And when they mention mimi or papa or bud bud or awma or gigi or caitlyn, I fight back tears. So the tick bite that I got in south Georgia that is still red coupled with slamming the left half of my left foot on the bathroom door was enough to send me into deep heavy sobs. Finally, I cried about it. I cried because I miss my Dad and my Mom and my grandma and my Shaka. I cried because my Dad's wife was so kind to us and because I miss watching the way she smokes her cigarettes after dinner. I cried because I miss how Caitlyn bursts out into her hellos at the girls. I cried because I miss cooking and watching what I am eating with my mom. I miss our shared jokes and glasses red wine at night. I miss my grandma's waddle across the apartment floor and  I miss seeing the girls give her big kisses. I miss sitting in Kate's living room talking to her about the most personal of personal. feeling free and alive again. I miss spending the next morning talking to her husband about interesting topics to which he offers interesting opinions. I miss the way Harmony is calm with Atlas and gentle with the world. I miss the way Ceci and Yo are just like sisters. Speaking of sisters, I miss my other two sisters so so much. I miss they way their bigger kids jump and cling for a hug. I miss being around the only two other women in the world that have the exact same parents as me and therefore a very different shade of the exact same issues.

I miss America. I miss my aunts and uncles and friends and the houses and the yards and the cars. I miss how nice everyone is. When I left, I was ready to come back. And even through this sadness I do not wish i was there. Well, I do but only in a parallel universe kind of way. And that is the hardest part of the missing. Because I can not just wipe up my tears, blow my nose and make a plan to get back. I can't do that because everything has changed for me. I don't that I am 100 percent headed back. I don't feel 100 percent staying here, but I have no idea where I am heading, so the missing has no end. It then becomes a hollow part of my heart and I do not like for any part of my heart to be hollow.

I have no tidy end for this post. I am going on vacation next week and I am sure that will help. I feel like I need to see wide-open beautiful Morocco outside of Casablanca and where I live. I have been missing that too.