Time Out

There was so much going on in my head. I decided that it was time to go home to New York to recharge as soon as possible, without thinking too much about the stresses of going back home for a spell, of the stress and headache my family was likely to cause me, the dreaded readaptation to the US, the changes there that may shock me.

Dildora booked a flight for me for the following Monday. I wrote emails home to my family letting them know when I was coming, my flight arrival time and number. My friend Mark said that there was nothing to worry about at home – everything had remained the same, more or less. Even after September 11, things had gone back to normal; people were sobered and softened a bit. The city had two buildings less. A few new restaurants had opened up. Everyone that I knew was still around, doing the same things. Some couples had split up. Some new pairings had formed.

It was a sweet consolation from Mark, however, in the back of my head, I wondered whether the change that was most frightening was the one happening inside of me; I made a little promise to myself – to not talk too much when I came back home, and to act as though I was just returning from a weekend in the country. Of course, I would end up breaking my promise to myself.  ¶ 3:38 AM