it’s quite true, the rumor that I’ve returned from
I am home.
Upon returning home, I’ve done two things.
1) Caught up on all The Hunger Games movies.
judge me not, Jennifer Lawrence is fantastica.
2) Went through a few boxes that belong to Before Melody.
I found several strange things.
Old, smelly books.
notes written in bad handwriting and in other languages
and a bat
a wooden one
why ever was there a bat there?
i know not.
goodness, why didn’t anyone tell me I was so weird?
p.s. i sealed the boxes again and decided it better that Before Melody stayed there.
but in all seriousness,
i actually am home, and this is strange.
i’m now grappling with fitting After Melody into the life of Before Melody.
it’s all quite awkward,
as if perhaps my bones don’t fit into my skin anymore
(perhaps that’s 18 months of rice talking, and nothing fits me)
but serving as missionary, marching in the back streets of Iquitos, has been the most
amazingly, life-changing, stupendously,
i say that,
and i mean it.
and i’m terribly sad it’s over,
(i’ve burst into tears now at least six and a half times already)
i’m working on my denial problems though,
so i guess
i am home.