I hopped on a plane a year, to the day, that I arrived. Not
quite realizing it until I looked at the passport stamps side by side, I took a
deep sigh of relief, now trusting that the time I was taking away from site was
truly right. That’s right, I look for signs, or I find signs, rather. I find
them in the 42 that shows up repeatedly in my life somehow knowing that my
father is supporting me. I find them in patterns of numbers that constantly
show up from locker combinations throughout school, to
identification numbers of my adulthood. So, as I sat, letting my monkey mind question myself for leaving “selfishly” to be with family when my grandmother passed,
I was given this wink.
I love order, organization, and dates that align, from
anniversaries that coincide with first kisses on through to the rest. Great
moments live on great days, and they welcome company, at least in my mind. This
day of return was no different. I left as the shutdown of Bangkok began to
return to the open arms of my dearest family and friends.
I planned to write about what has changed about me after
being in Thailand a year, but the real story turned out to be what hadn’t
changed. My deep love and admiration for my parents is as intact as ever. My
devotion to my family is as strong as before. My joyful and meaningful
connection to friends remains, no matter that a year has separated me from
everyone I knew.
I didn’t see one person from my life before Peace Corps
during my first year of service in Thailand, except through the use of
technology. I left with a duffel bag over my shoulder, a backpack on my back,
and dreams of positively impacting my new world while being impacted by it. I
was ready to grow and explore.
Coming home, I was ready to know what I had missed so much
in the previous year. My father’s arm over my shoulder, my mother’s hand in
mine, spiritual delving with my closest of companions, my friends sharing laughter, my sister and I cracking poop jokes, my
brother and I digging deep into conversation, and so much more. I was ready to
walk the beaches, drive the freeways, hike the hills, and not have to ask for
permission to do as I pleased. What simple freedoms I had missed.
The trip left room for reflection of my grandmother’s
beautiful life, and all the lives she touched along the way. Room for
reconnecting with old friends and relatives that I’d lost touch with. Room for
processing a year of service in a foreign land from a distance. I saw the
impacts I had made as I shared stories of challenges and growth that I hadn’t
allowed myself time to appreciate. I saw steps I had made to adapt to a culture
so different from my own. I shared the good, the strange, the uncomfortable as
I hadn’t felt free to from my isolated room in remote Thailand via the Internet, and felt the
loving hands and hearts of my friends and family reach out to support, acknowledge,
love, and encourage me on my way.
There is no doubt in my mind that my grandmother’s passing
was not perfectly placed in time. I see the joy and beauty of her legacy living
on in her husband, children, grandchildren, great-grandchildren, and so on. I see her slowing and letting go as painfully clear as I can her love living on. I
see the gifts she gave me, from my passion for music that she shared with my
father who then passed it onto me, to my love of the stage which she insisted
came from her mother, on to those secret gifts that keep popping up as
reminders along the way.
I am so grateful to have had the opportunity to return home
to honor the life of Grandma. So thankful that it allowed me the time and space
to gain perspective and return refreshed to this gift and challenge
that is Peace Corps Thailand.
