Deja Vu

As my plane landed in Bangalore last night, I felt a wave of nostalgia.

I remembered all the times I’ve been to this airport...

- arriving - scared and excited, I told Sid I was, “Fresh as a daisy” and he said, “welcome home”.  little did I know that it would soon become home.

- picking up the students - I felt like a local, and I was so excited for my kids.

- picking up my mom - nervous for my worlds to collide, but thrilled to share my life.

- flying to delhi - I was the “mom”, the guide, the leader.  and mom experienced white privilege firsthand for the first time the first encounter we had at the airport.

- returning from delhi - we hired a cab, probably the only driver in the city who spoke only hindi.  he got lost, and lost, and lost, and eventually we got out, walked to the rickshaw line, and hired an auto.  which was great, until the wheel fell off.  so we carried all our luggage to the bus depot and hired another auto to take us as far as a restaurant, and bribed another handsomely to finally take us home.

- dropping off my mom - she was so cute going through all the ticket lines, and after she made it through we went to find our driver only to realize he wasn’t answering his phone and we had no idea where he had parked...15 minutes of wandering the parking lot later, he finally answered.

- dropping off the kids - bittersweet.  this ended an era for them, for us. but i’m not going to lie, i was also excited to know i had my last weekend for me and only me to do with as i wished.

- leaving - terrible. cafe coffee day with Siddo and Roshen, laughs and jokes as we waited for goodbyes, even as I went through ticketing and signed with them through the window. but when I got to my gate...the waterworks began. and, minus naptimes, didn’t stop for a good 24 hours.

In December, Sid and Roshen said they gave me 6 months til I was back.

And here I am.

When I got off the plane, it was like deja vu...like I’d been here before. 

I'm back :)

I got to Delhi around 3:30 India time and had to gather my luggage, go through customs, and recheck my luggage before heading through security and to my gate.  My first thought as I entered the airport?  It smells like India.  When I was here before, I don’t think I recognized it because I lived in it.  But coming, back, the heavy mix of incense, sweat, spices, and people hangs in the air.  I smiled - I’m back.

While I was at the baggage claim, a couple other white men stood by me to wait for their bags.  One greeted me with a, “Well, you surely aren’t Indian.  Where are you from?”  I laughed and we went through the niceties - I am from Minnesota, he’s from Mississippi.  I asked what he’s doing here, he’s on business, and I couldn’t grasp from our conversation if it was short or long term.  He’d never been, but seemed to speak of his wife and home like it was so far away.  So I asked  “So are you here short term, then, or will you be here for awhile?”

His response: “Oh, well to me it seems pretty long term.”  I nod understandably, thinking maybe he’ll be here til Thanksgiving or Christmas like others I have spoken with.  

He continued: “I’ll be here until the 5th.”

I felt my eyebrows raise, and I asked, “of September?”

“Yes, I won’t go home until Labor Day.  What about you, how long are you here?”

I laughed and said, “Well, I’ll be here a little bit longer than Labor Day...”

Leaving

I’ve said it before, and I’ll say it again - leaving is the pits.  But sometimes, it’s the only way to get to where you’re going.  Become who you’re becoming.

My family has come to loathe airport goodbyes.  “Isn’t there some better way to do this?” we ask.  But alas, there is none.  I had a dry run last Sunday when we brought my sister to the airport so she could get to California for her senior year of college.  I held her hand the whole time, casting sideways glances down the ticketing counter towards the American Airlines, where I would be leaving in just one week...today.  Then, the sight of it made me want to throw up.  We cried, we prayed, and sent my little sister through security.  Watched her gather up her things, turn for one last wave goodbye, and then square her shoulders and walk confidently out into the great big world.  I used to love airports, they gave me butterflies of excitement in my stomach, but now they generally represent leaving, and the thought of leaving just makes me nauseous.

Today it was my turn.  JJ slept with me, but I only made it to bed for an hour before it was time to get up again.  And in that hour, he managed to steal all of my covers.  Thanks bro.  When  I woke up, the first thing I thought was, “I’m moving to India today.  What the heck am I doing?”  

The airport was hard.  I got all checked in by 6:40am, but didn’t need to head through security for at least an hour.  So Mom, Dad, and I sat with teary eyes watching the kiss and fly lane, holding each other, crying, and having the sendoff prayer.  We were quite the hot mess, that’s for sure.  But if it’s hard to leave something, it is because of the depth of your love for what you are leaving.  I am thankful that I can say that yes, I love Minnesota.  I love my family.  I love my friends.  You are my home, my community, my roots.  And I am so thankful that I stuck around long enough to be reminded of that.  Thank you for sticking by me, for loving me, and for reminding me of who I am when I forget.

My tears trickled off when it was time to go through security.  I gave Mom and Dad one last hug, heaved my carry-ons onto my shoulders, and headed through the line.  And as I did so, my sadness was replaced with peace, confidence, and anticipation.  I hate leaving, but I know that - for right now - this is right.  I waved once again, and with 12 minutes til boarding headed towards Starbucks to pick up one last treat.  9 minutes to boarding.  I left Starbucks and, as I passed the security line, had a feeling they were still there.  So I rambled by and sure enough, Mom and Dad were still holding each other, looking for one last glimpse.  

I smiled, waved, blew a final kiss, and turned to face the world.