Are we there yet?
I have come to a world where most things tend to be clearly defined. A world where any and all colors outside of black and white often get misinterpreted.
I have come to a world where chaos is beautiful, a world where the land has so much soul, so much history and very many traditions. A world of joyful sorrow for the old and undying hope for the young.
I, being me, have arrived to this beautiful place completely numb and so very grey.
I have so far had to explain to a five year old why my husband does not wish to be where I am. And how he, unlike me, was not born of this place. I was also asked if my marriage to the man who cannot speak my native tongue was as uncomfortable as the second degree sunburnt I incurred in my first two days in Lebanon. Also by the same curious five year old.
All my acquaintances have wanted me to define my situation and my decision, in terms they can understand.
And that has not been possible. I am struggling to find a way to explain what it took for me to jump off a cliff, or words that give this journey justice in any language, to both adults or children alike. I speak to them of missions and white fences. I speak of legacy and purpose. That’s all I have at this point.
I am not provoked. I am unusually and extremely calm. All I know is that the five year old’s simple and delightful questions have me longing for the yes and no kind of answers, and until I have those, I have stopped answering all questions for now …