June 23. Exactly two weeks from our departure date. At this time in two weeks, we will be checking in at CDG, ready for a two-hour flight & a night spent in the Dublin airport. [Pause for heaving sobs.]
I'm not really sure what to say after that. I've stopped reading & writing. I've begun watching loads of movies. I don't leave the apartment much due to the rain. I eat through my feelings–mostly brownies & crackers. I've become completely worthless, & I think it's only going to get worse.
It's amazing how quickly time passes, & I'm trying to see our return to the States as another countable period before the next trip to France–or who knows? Some other French-speaking country... (Honestly, we're not even that particular about it being a French-speaking country, though I'd come back to France permanently if flights back to Ohio were a reasonable price & not such a disaster for the environment.)
It's hard for me to think through everything that will happen between tomorrow & the end of August, especially since I'm used to having my to-do list finalized weeks in advance. I'm trying to focus on the little things–talking to my goddaughter, not paying six dollars for salsa, painting my toe nails, exercising with my sister, waking up early, chasing my pet rabbit around.
The days will be full. It will take us a while to start missing this place, but when the distance sinks in there will be a hole in my heart as big as the hole in my cheese variety. You can't talk to France on the phone like you can talk to your parents.
Still walking home, after Joe asked the date, we passed a group of boys. One of them was wearing a t-shirt, saying something to the effect of "I was born here by chance." There is a pride that we are expected to be born with, a love of our country & its history that is supposed to come naturally to us.
I've spent a year answering questions about California and SUVs and New York and Obama's blackness. I've spent a year explaining to people that we do not all live in Orange County and that there are forty states in between the coasts that also have beautiful histories. I've spent a year realizing that the image foreigners have of America & its glory is neither an image I share nor an image I'm apart of.
The fears I have about the health of my home culture, society & government do not–and indeed cannot–exist here. Citizens of France do not worry about how they will pay for their cancer treatment or how their food has been genetically modified. There is corporate influence, but there is still the sentiment that the government is for and OF the people.
I will miss that most. I bring this up now because when I think of my future in the States, it is these fears that dictate how I see my life playing out. Will my time here push me harder & faster to a position where I can affect changes that will begin to eliminate those fears for Americans? Or will I become so discouraged & even more afraid than I am now–until I feel that I must flee to give my children the kind of society I feel most natural in? According to Winston Churchill, "Americans can always be counted on to do the right thing...after they have exhausted all other possibilities." I find myself wondering if this is the point we are near, if I'm meant to be a part of our moment to finally do the right thing.
But for now I have plenty to distract me. Soon, these thoughts will float not only through my mind but through my course discussions & career focus. Today & tomorrow, there are cell phones & utilities to cancel, laundry to do, showers to scrub. There are friends to hang out with, school programs to attend (where Joe will be leading the little ones in English songs). There are jobs to apply to, for both of us.
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