not unhappy, but sad

i'm missing my old life right now, badly, and i don't even know why.  as i said to mike while crying after skyping with my parents, "i'm not unhappy, i'm just sad." which makes perfect sense to me.  things are good, they are, they're really good, but sometimes it sneaks up on me, and i'm just sad. 

i miss the fries and dipping sauces at leons in decatur. i miss the porches of my friends.  i miss going for a walk in a pretty neighborhood and seeing families that look like me, doing the things i did when i was growing up.  i miss grabbing a pizza at osteria with the kids and seeing 5 families from school.  i miss zoe having a host of trained, professional adults around her who understood her brain and helped us both to live with it.  i miss the women i got to know in the waiting room of the offices of those trained professionals, who also lived my life, but usually with their sons.  i miss the change in weather that fleshes out the passage of time, unlike this stagnant equatorial constancy. always. the. same.  i miss people calling me on the phone to talk.  i miss pre-washed bagged lettuce, and the kind people at trader joes, and buying store bought gluten-free bread even if it cost $5 a loaf.  i admit it, i miss the reliable taste of a starbucks latte.  i miss the light changing each evening.  i miss my comfortable couch and a TV and the opportunity to watch 'american idol'.  i miss my local friends so much. sara can we sit on your porch and have a glass of wine?  erin can we watch the kids play and eat your homemade guac and laugh? shannon can we go for a long walk? heath, can we live life together down the street? kim can we go to murphys? mom and dad can you come for dinner? bill can you come for the weekend?  linds can we talk on the phone everyday?

it's not that i'm unhappy here.  because i'm not.  i like it here, i even love it here.  but today i'm homesick. simply. so i cried a bit.  i listened to music with harmonicas- that barrier breaking soulful instrument, and i got in my car and drove down to mukono to buy some lemons at the local marketplace from the lady i always by fruit and vegetables from. tried to call a friend at home to say hi, but didn't reach her, then i went to the store and bought some toilet paper because life needs to go on.  at the check out counter the power went out, and the lady at the check out counter asked me how my sunday was.  i told her in the dim light that it was fine,  but then added that i was actually homesick. she smiled. 

i wanted to tell her why i was homesick- what i missed- one thing which might have been reliable lights and expiration dates that haven't usually past.  but i didn't, i smiled back.  this is africa.

so i got in my car, and drove up the dirt road as the sun set, again, reliably at 7, knowing that even though i'm a little sad today, i'm not unhappy.

a moment

i'm accidentally homesick.
we started looking at old photos and videos of home.  i sat sandwiched on the couch between my boys and we laughed and giggled about their little voices on video a few years back.  we remembered old shirts and toys and places we'd gone, and friends, and our dog.  we remembered the things we'd left behind. 

then it was late and time for pajamas and teeth brushing. 
while i was pouring the clean water on his toothbrush, bryn looking sad said, "i wish we could go back and live in america."
"why honey?"
"i liked our old house better.  it was bigger and nicer and it had stairs."

for the first time i really saw it from his eyes, instead of my eyes looking at him. i could tell that looking back was hard.  his whole life had been in that one house, with his grandparents near by, and lots of nice things.  he didn't have to navigate his place in another culture.  he didn't need to speak 'ugandan english' or drive by poverty every day.  there was less that needed making sense of at age 4. 

i had a moment. 

i felt badly for him.  i felt guilty for pulling him from normal and plunking him down here.  i thought about what i could say to him, 'honey, i know it's hard, but mommy and daddy feel like this is a place with a great need that we can help with.' but that doesn't matter to a kid, and it really doesn't matter when you're feeling homesick.  'babe, think of all the fun things here! we've got monkeys in the trees!' the cheer up pep talk doesn't work either.  he needs to be allowed to miss it, he needs to be allowed to not like it here sometimes, he needs to be allowed to be mad that he's been plunked down here.

"honey it was hard to look at the pictures of our old house and our friends wasn't it?"
"yes"
"i know, it's hard for me too sometimes.  i miss it too."
"can you read us a story tonight mommy?"
"yes- that i can do."

sometimes you just need to acknowledge the feeling.  you just need to be okay with hearing the unhappy. but it surprised me like bumping into a bruise i didn't know i had. i felt that twanging of my heart strings.  so i allowed myself to indulge.

i envisioned my life last december.  i felt the cold of my front porch with the little white icicle lights.  i could smell the pine of the wreath on the door.  i could see the black scraping branches poking at the far away pale sky. i allowed myself to walk through my old house, into the rooms that i haven't thought about in months, to hear the creaking of the floor.  then i walked in my mind, down the street with the cracked octagonal stones, up to the main street and i could see the stores, with christmas decorations and people i knew from school, or work, or just from the neighborhood. 
i remembered how easy it all was.  and just when i was about to stop myself, about to keep it there, to not think about having dinner with my friends, to not imagine my mom stopping by, i ruined it by looking at facebook and seeing a Christmas picture of my friend erin and her family, and it broke me.

so from the other side of the world, i'm teary and missing you all.