Goodbye

I was never very good at goodbyes. When I went to New Zealand and lived with as an exchange student (of sorts) for 5 weeks I found myself tearless at the airport trying to console the other 3 girls with me as we went back to America. I always like the scene in the Sixth Sense where the boy and the man pretend that they will see each other the next day even though this will be their last goodbye.

The boy says, "See you tomorrow."
The man replies, "See you tomorrow." And the man walks off.

I wish all my goodbyes could be that inconspicuous, none of this waving a handkerchief, running after a train, long crushing hugs. I would just like to walk out of your life like I walked into it. And we'll both know what that interaction (long or short) did or did not mean to us; none of this flaunting our relationship through dramatic scenes of parting sorrow.

The Daniels see so many students come and go I feel like all their goodbyes are of the simple, loving, but short nature. I'm sure they miss some students more than others. But they don't make a big deal about it. The first time I left them I know they didn't think I was coming back. They thought I hated India, and well they were sort of right. Only later did I see the value of my experiences in India. I knew (even then) I would come back, if only to prove to myself that I could do it better the second time.

Well, do it better I did. I even came to love the place. Strange that something so difficult could become so beloved.

I came to really love that family, especially Jeeva. Jeeva, the host mother, is a gentle quiet woman. I'm afraid that many students come to see her as part of the background. I think they perceive her as possibly a little dumb and quite submissive. Over those 4 months I was living there in their house I came to respect her more and more as a strong leader in her family, in the church, and among her neighbors.

My last day there Matthew, the host father, had gone into town. The girls, Jeeva and I sat on the porch waiting for 11:30 bus to come. We moved to the bus stop near their house. Jeeva came and stood with me, something I never expected her to do. As I stood by this small woman I knew we had shared a lot. I can't quite describe what we shared, or what made it different to leave her this time, but it was different. I think it has something to do with the many little moments we had together.

• That one Sunday night her Salomane tied me in a saree like the old village women and I hobbled around making Jeeva, Priya, and Salomane laugh harder than I've ever heard them before.
• The sacrament meeting where I watched Jeeva cry while giving a talk.
• The random evenings spent hanging around the kitchen just shooting the breeze.
• The daily ritual (created over time) of finding Jeeva when I got home and asking about her day and telling her about mine.
• The day I made Jeeva and Matthew laugh by sharing my silly thoughts on wanting to pick up the short old crabby ladies on the bus so they can hang on the tall bar (like some monkey bar) and stop pushing me out of my spot.
• The water days where we got Jeeva to come to the government tap (our own "nuclear weapon" to any conflict) to deliver justice and put the other ladies in their place.
• The mornings I woke early and watched with interest as Jeeva dunged the courtyard.
• The times she invited me in alone to eat with her family.
• Hearing her tell about bearing her testimony to the Jehovah Witnesses that came by.
• Listening to her broken English as she talked about what she saw on Guinness World Records Television Show and being amazed with her at all the crazy feats people do.
• The afternoons she put me in charge of their family's little shop while she ran an errand.

In some way all of those little moments added up to a deep and meaningful relationship and I was sad to leave her. Not that I was sad to leave India. It felt like the right time for me to leave. I knew I had had wonderful experiences and would have those memories for a long while.

It was my deep relationships with people in the States that made me homesick while in India. And it will be those deep relationships in India that make me long for that place. My ex-boyfriend grew up in Kenya and Nepal, but always spent his summers in Idaho at his grandma's house. He talked about living in-between, never really having a place he considers home. I don't feel that. I have a home and it's in Arizona. But I am finding that I make myself at home wherever I go by surrounding myself with loving relationships. After enough traveling I suppose I'll always be missing someone from a place far from me.