Last night I was jet lagged and sad. So sad, in fact, that this is what I wrote:
Pieces of me are all over the world.
Right now my life feels like a
messed up,
screwed up,
piece of travel warped craziness.
32 hours.
5 Airports.
A frozen tundra when we enter,
a tropical heatwave when we exit.
A DIFFERENT WORLD.
How can I live so far
from so many I love?
When did I get used to
NOT
having them around?
THEY
are the
ones
who
have been through the most…
THE LEAVING.
I’VE put an ACTUAL (insanely large) distance
in miles
in kilometers
in oceans
between my children
and
the people
who
love
them
MOST
in this world
(aside from us).
We made a choice for a different life…
but I miss them.
There is no more audience for my kids.
They change and grow without much external fanfare…
aside from our claps.
Which seem feeble
when compared to grandparent claps.
And sometimes,
at 3am,
when I have jet lag…
I wonder if it was the right choice.
Why do we put ourselves through it?
Can I handle another night of tears?
Tears from all of us.
Tears for grandparents,
cousins,
uncles,
and several awesome aunties in South Africa.
Is it right?
Is it wrong?
Or is it just what it is.
And then, after some sleep, I looked at the images above and I remembered. Life is not all about me. It’s about the things we believe in. The CHOICES we make to fulfill those beliefs. The ONE above that I have surrendered to, and the JOURNEY that we are on. A journey with a people we don’t yet understand. And you know what? Even though we don’t understand Burundians yet… I bet they will end up teaching us a whole lot more than we teach them.
Holding onto hope,
Kristy
All images
Hasselblad 501C
Fuji 400/Portra 400
