So, it's been a while. I always have some sort of excuse when I disappear for an extended period of time, but I really do think that this one is valid. The past month and a half has disappeared into a whirlwind of leaving and arriving and packing and unpacking, and the vastness of the paradigm shift I've experienced is only just now starting to settle around my weary shoulders.
I woke up this morning in our little flat in Newcastle, cozy and warm under my duvet despite the windy grey of the morning outside, and for some reason it was like I only just now realized how far from home we are. I wandered from room to room, making the bed, straightening cushions on the couches and preparing breakfast for a still-sleeping Zoe, and despite the fact that I'm loving the chance to play house for these few short weeks, it all felt empty today.
I'm desperately missing community, and I think it's starting to catch up with me. Up until a week ago, this time on land was peppered with visits to and from friends and family, and with all the comings and goings there's been no time to realize that we're actually on our own.
It hits me at odd moments. Like now, sitting in the living room late at night, listening to the clock tick instead of the thrum of the generators and the laughter coming from the crew galley around the corner. Or in the middle of my days when I look up from what I'm doing and realize that I haven't seen a single person who wasn't related to me in over twelve hours.
We went to a new church yesterday, and Zoe was playing in the foyer during the sermon when an African man in an immaculate white suit came in. She ran over to him with arms held high, he scooped her up, and they spent the next little while getting to know each other while my heart ached for that sort of easy community. We were laughing about it with another Nigerian family after the service, (The people here even ask permission before they pick up your child! What is that?) but the truth is that this is a very different life than the one I've been used to for the past nearly six years. And I know it's only for a few months, but even a week can feel like forever when the hours are echoing and empty and the only voice I hear is my own.
There will be more to come eventually, more about what it's been like finding my land legs and ramblings about how impossibly difficult I find it to cook dinner with a baby trying to jump into the oven, I'm sure, but this is all there is right now. This missing the people and the place I should be surrounded with, this longing for home.
I woke up this morning in our little flat in Newcastle, cozy and warm under my duvet despite the windy grey of the morning outside, and for some reason it was like I only just now realized how far from home we are. I wandered from room to room, making the bed, straightening cushions on the couches and preparing breakfast for a still-sleeping Zoe, and despite the fact that I'm loving the chance to play house for these few short weeks, it all felt empty today.
I'm desperately missing community, and I think it's starting to catch up with me. Up until a week ago, this time on land was peppered with visits to and from friends and family, and with all the comings and goings there's been no time to realize that we're actually on our own.
It hits me at odd moments. Like now, sitting in the living room late at night, listening to the clock tick instead of the thrum of the generators and the laughter coming from the crew galley around the corner. Or in the middle of my days when I look up from what I'm doing and realize that I haven't seen a single person who wasn't related to me in over twelve hours.
We went to a new church yesterday, and Zoe was playing in the foyer during the sermon when an African man in an immaculate white suit came in. She ran over to him with arms held high, he scooped her up, and they spent the next little while getting to know each other while my heart ached for that sort of easy community. We were laughing about it with another Nigerian family after the service, (The people here even ask permission before they pick up your child! What is that?) but the truth is that this is a very different life than the one I've been used to for the past nearly six years. And I know it's only for a few months, but even a week can feel like forever when the hours are echoing and empty and the only voice I hear is my own.
There will be more to come eventually, more about what it's been like finding my land legs and ramblings about how impossibly difficult I find it to cook dinner with a baby trying to jump into the oven, I'm sure, but this is all there is right now. This missing the people and the place I should be surrounded with, this longing for home.