One of the favorite editing techniques of action movie producers is the rapid switch between scenes. In one shot, our main hero is firing a rocket launcher out of a helicopter as the city below him erupts in flames, and the next he is sitting quietly at home, sipping a cup of tea and listening to the quiet patter of rain out his double-paned window, reflecting on the suddenly far-away experience. In a very odd way, that's the feeling I've been getting about my life recently. I've been pulled out of my action scene, where I was exploring Mayan ruins, living in one of the biggest cities on earth, and fighting off the swine flu, and now I am sitting in Berkeley, watching the weather change and the faucet drip, all my clothes two thousand miles away.
I say to all my friends that I'm sad to have left Mexico but glad to be back. But the reality is that, in comparison, I was not yet ready to be here. As my days slowly fill with meetings and commitments, I am regaining my former life but with the full knowledge that I will never have my life in Mexico back. As I filled out my withdrawal forms the other night I began to cry, and I didn't stop until I fell asleep in Sean's arms. I guess coming back isn't all bad: sleeping in with Sean, dinners with Kyle and Sonya, and lunch times with my mentee at the middle school. And this weekend with the family :) But there is a lot I am missing.