Originally written in the end of November...
My jaw then nearly dropped open at my own response, as it implied that I miss nothing in Mass, and that is clearly untrue. So I explained, “I mean, I miss people, of course. But I rarely feel like, "Damn, I miss marshmallows." At which point he laughed, and I wondered if he managed to follow my seemingly illogical train of thought...because I'm sure that someone visiting Cameroon for an extended period of time, let's just say, might at some point, really start missing being able to walk to the nearest supermarket to buy a bag of marshmallows. Okay, not the best example.
Is not missing any thing indicative of something? I talk to my family all the time. I Skype with and write to my parents, my brother's family, my cousins, extended family and friends. So while I do miss sitting across from those people and watching them laugh or blow out candles, or hearing my dad play piano and sing for all his grandchildren, and I miss sharing a long, tight hug when our busy lives let us slow down for a day to enjoy one another's company...we still connect while I'm gone.
But those things that I have always appreciated so much every year, which my friend and I discussed, like New England foliage and the smell of logs burning, I'm not longing for them. So what is going on? Am I failing at being human, or am I experiencing so much novelty and goodness in each place I go, that I have somehow detached from those things that I always counted on to make me happy? Autumn in New England is phenomenal. I have never taken for granted. So it seems impossible that I haven't broken down on the streets of Brasil – okay, Brazil- because I'm feening for a crisp caramel apple, a Thanksgiving meal, or one of Starbuck's silly seasonal lattes. Is my world is becoming less material or am I simply finding new material to construct my world?
Perhaps it seems silly to you to write about this, but not missing things back home has really caused me to question my own level of sensitivity. I suppose a reflection like this during Thanksgiving isn't so absurd. We're all focusing on being grateful for what we have, right? What I can't seem to determine is if this peaceful disengagement is an indication of some type of humanity that I'm lacking, a defense mechanism for a long-term traveler, or if I've just learned to fully savor each moment I'm experiencing. Maybe it's a trade-off, and if it is, so be it. As long as my family and friends know that I love them and think of them all the time, no homesickness is fine with me.
