sister time

I talked to my sister yesterday.

That might not seem like such a big deal in the grand scheme of things, but somehow what with Fiji and Camp and Benin and Work, time slipped away from us and it's been months since I've heard her voice. The phone rang and she sounded incredulous. It's this easy? I just punch in a few numbers and I'm talking to you floating on a boat in the middle of the ocean?! It was a genuine why the heck didn't we try this sooner? moment.

We talked for more than two hours and I was doing so well until she started describing the day they were having. It's one of those fall days where the sky is crystal blue and the air is a little bit crisp. But still warm in the sun. I looked out my window at the water of the port, grey under an overcast sky, little wavelets bring whipped up by a breeze that I knew without feeling was warm and sticky, tinged with the unmistakable aroma of fish and garbage.

These are the times I miss home. More often that not, I'm pretty convinced that what I've got going on over here beats anything happening back in New Jersey hands down. How could everyday suburban life ever stand a chance against beaming brown-skinned boys who teach me tribal languages and melt into my arms for hugs? But yesterday, while my sister told me about the weather and about my cousin's growing belly (her baby is due in the next couple of weeks) and the fact that she was going to see my best friend in concert later on, I would have given anything to be back there. To feel the crisp fall air instead of that vaguely cool breeze that sometimes comes our way in the port here. To sit in the company of my family rather than a bunch of near-strangers from around the world. To see trees on fire with red and gold instead of the ruffled green of palm fronds.

It's so hard to explain how some days this place is home, and some days, with just a few words from sister, home seems the farthest thing in the world.