bittersweet

Today's Wednesday.  I have a seat on a plane that leaves on Sunday afternoon.

"Hey, how you feeling about going home?"  someone asked me.

"Loaded question." was my only response.

And I'm grateful she didn't push the issue.

If I really stop and listen, I can hear his voice sometimes. How much louder will it get when I'm home?  When I see my mother?  My siblings?  My mother's house?  His brothers?

Does his mother even know he's gone?  I can't even begin to comprehend how she took/will take the news that she's outlived her son.  Somehow, that doesn't seem right. How will she react when she sees us - my mother and I - without him?  Will she even realize that he isn't there?

There are some people who are very excited about my homecoming. And I'm excited about the prospect of seeing them. 

And about not having to fight with crowds, bikes, scooters and cars for sidewalk space.  And about being able to drink water straight out of the tap.  And about being able to drive a car. And about eating my mother's amazing cooking. And about getting hugs from really good friends. And about being literate again.  And about the fact that my little sister is getting married (!). And about showing off my superstar Mandarin-speaking skills (well ... to them, it'll definitely seem so. It really doesn't take much to seem better at a language than someone who doesn't know a single word ... ).

But still, there's a sadness there.  One that won't go away for a little while.

Gee, and to think that what brought on this way of thinking is that I leave in 4 days, and I don't know where my passport is.  If I don't get it back from the visa office in time ... 

I'm trying not to think about that or its implications, which are complicated by one simple fact:  I DON'T SPEAK CHINESE!!

I still have four days, though. And China might as well be subtitled "The country where you fly by the seat of your pants." or "The country that just keeps throwing curveballs."  Exciting - but exhausting - life. 

Or maybe it's not the country, but life itself that forces one to improvise and deal with the changes.  Dad would have still died, even if I hadn't been on the other side of the world, and life would have still changed drastically.  Maybe even more so.

Okay, enough about that.

The suitcase is (mostly) packed, summer activities here are slooooowly winding down, and I'm itching to go. But also itching to stay.

Or maybe it's the bug bites that are causing the itch ...