Just like there is nothing that will prepare you for being an expat in another country. There’s no amount of ground work that will combat the six month adjustment/depression (same thing) that comes hand in hand with moving. There’s something pepole don’t really tell you about moving back. It’s quite possibly, just as difficult. If you’re unlucky to decide to do so at the onset of it; the dark of winter is relentless, the isolation complete even for someone who has grown up here.
There are things you forget about the States. The comforting but vapid friendliness. The soda cans feel huge and unwieldy. Winter never ends. How through out this season you will be the coldest in your own home, always dressed in double. Two socks, two shirts, sometimes a scarf, and a beanie, only to long for a warm cup of tea to warm your fingers. You become hyper aware of how no one stares. If you are a woman in particular, the void is stark. Sometimes, one will miss the attention.
I returned to the US, with four bags of clothes, three and a half of those bags are filled with summer clothes, I’ll likely be able to wear a different outfit for each day this summer. Winter has but just begun, despite being covered in a near burka of layers the wardrobe planning for scant two months of warmth is forever playing in my head.
Thrift stores are amazing as they always were. I can’t believe people just give away these premium jeans! The restaurants are common. Starbucks looks rather shabby and lame. McDonald’s doesnt mind if you photograph their interiors. The grocery stores and wholesale stores are a gift, I could spend hours examining every thing they offer up. The potato chip and meat aisles?! Heaven.
I seem to have developed supersonic hearing for the Indian accent. A secret spark of joy trembles within me as I fight the urge to go ask every brown person if they’re from Bombay. I never approach them like I did that scared lady from Kansas at Oberoi Mall…so many years ago..
Oh. You know what else?
Tomorrow do thy worst.
I got this.