The End is Near

It's that unique point in the year where time at once passes very slowly and very quickly.

On the one hand, though I know I’ll be home in two short weeks, it seems that time passes in its own irksome, leisurely fashion.  The afternoons and evenings are practically interminable.  Though the list of things I must accomplish in my remaining time here is miles long, I cannot seem to muster the motivation to deal with much of it.  I have plenty of time, I tell myself, since time insists on meandering and lollygagging and finding every possible way of extending itself beyond reasonable measures.  (For the record, though, I did buy myself a suitcase today.  Good job, Rebekah.  You’ve only been putting it off since August.)

On the other hand, though, I have just as much trouble believing I’ve been here so long already.  I remember my arrival in this city in surprising detail.  I remember walking outside of the airport that first morning and being hit with a wall of overwhelming heat and humidity, as unmoving and unwavering as though it were made of bricks.  I remember the sun beating down relentlessly from a cloudless sky like it was yesterday.  (It should be said, though, that almost every day is like that, so I suppose it’s not too hard to believe that I recall it so clearly.)

It’s also that obnoxiously reflective time of year, when you think about your successes, your failures, what you would do differently, and what you will miss.  I have made friends here that I am exceptionally fond of.  I think I am in denial of the fact that there will come a day, very soon now, when I will no longer get to see them whenever I want.  I am fortunate in the fact that one of those lovely people will be moving to Columbus in the beginning of August, and so I will get to see her whenever I like.

At the same time, though, I am going back to so many wonderful things that I feel my cup runneth over.  I have gained a newfound appreciation and respect (coupled with awe and admiration) for the country I grew up in.  I realize I may have idealized America in my thoughts this year, but I simply cannot get over just how much space there is in that country.  Good lord, it’s huge.  And relative to its population, there is so much empty space.  I can stretch my arms out wide and not run into anyone (in fact, it’s entirely possible that I won’t even be able to see anyone else outside with me).  I can take a short drive and find myself in a place where I am totally, utterly alone.  Peace and quiet are everyday occurrences.  I can hear the birds singing when I open my window.  I don’t smell exhaust every time I step outside my door.  I see stars in the sky at night.  There are beautiful, quiet parks minutes from my house.

The Chinese word for America is “美國 (meiguo),” which, literally translated, means “beautiful country.”  The name was chosen because it resembles the second syllable of the word “America,” not because of what it means.  I couldn’t think of a more appropriate name, though.  There is such beauty in that country.  It is in the deciduous trees and the wide, open spaces.  It’s in the national parks and the local parks around the corner from your house.  It is in the crickets and the cicadas and the fireflies outside your door in the summertime.  It’s in the changing of the seasons, the fiery reds and oranges of autumn, the bright green of early spring, the blazing white that is the world covered in snow in wintertime.  It’s even in the highways, lined with trees and hills and forests and farmhouses.

It was Dorothy who said, “there’s no place like home,” and there’s a lot to be said for that.  I am incredibly lucky that I can call America my home.  There, unlike in many other places, I can say whatever I want and get away with it.  It is not just great natural beauty and personal freedoms that await me, either.  There are some very special people there that I would not exchange for the world, and I know they are waiting for me to come back.

Now, don’t get me wrong, I like Taiwan a lot.  I know I’ve got a big change coming up, and those changes always announce themselves with their own kind of turbulence, as well as a great deal of hassle.  I am grateful for this incredible experience that I have been given, but I cannot help thinking that every moment back in America will feel like a tremendous gift, ripe with opportunities for observing the great natural beauty that is the US.

It’s time.  I’m coming home.