Longing

We pulled up to the airport with its blue signs and white arrows. The hustle and bustle of people destined to move great spaces in a very short amount of time. The sound of that mechanical voice announcing flight arrivals and departures. And a wave swept over me. A wave of longing.
Longing that I had my suitcases with me, and a passport and ticket in hand.
Longing for watching airplanes, trying to figure out which one was mine.
Longing for perfume browsing with a father who delighted in making forever memories with his daughters.
Longing to load that plane, to see if maybe, oh, maybe.. there might be movies on this leg of the trip.
Longing to see if I got the window seat.
Longing for that snack tray.
Longing for trying to sleep on an upright airplane seat.
Longing, even, for hour long layovers in a foreign city.
Longing for my eyes to brighten with anticipation.
Longing to walk out and have that warm wave of humidity stifle me.
Longing, that now, even now, brings tears to my eyes.
Longing to go home...

Longing that has to wait. Too often, it hides in the back of my mind, those memories of before. It seems like all my past has been divided up into before, during and after. After the Thing That Took Me Away. But when it comes forward, with news of a family pet killed, with hugging Rachel and saying hello after three years, with telling others of my past and future dreams... it comes forward with force. My throat tightens, my eyes water, and I have to breathe deep. Because, buried deep under African soil... is my heart. It is content here, as long as I ignore the past. But inside of me, that longing is there and I miss it, so very, very much.
The safety that I feel in the embrace of the warm atmosphere and the wide sky. The palm trees, lush forests, banana plantations, rubber tree groves. People with dark skin willing to take me in. Traditional cloth that embodies so much history in its design. Celebrations with parades. Roasting corn over an open fire. Conferences with other missionary families. Homeschooling. Traveling to the black and white sanded beaches. Saying names and places that others would recognize.
Our white landcruiser. My bunkbed. Our house. My Anne of Green Gables series sitting on my shelf. My many stuffed animals. A bookshelf full of assorted books. Climbing trees. Eating fruit.. mangoes, bananas, guavas, oranges, and many more. Going to church for three hours on a Sunday. Matching as a family in traditional clothing. Open air markets. Shopping for Christmas presents when it's sweltering outside. Madly dancing to the Nutcracker. So much more that cannot be expressed...

I can hardly wait for two years to be over.