that undulating lava lamp

part 1

lately i’ve been thinking about how disorienting the transition felt, when eric and i, along with harlowe and her italian pet passport, left our home in europe and returned to native soil in the states.

i’ve been thinking about repatriation and my delayed reaction to the grief that often accompanies it. disconnected, dismantled. in between two worlds.

24 november 2020. we traveled across the ocean, only planning to stay five months. but now, unbelievably, the five months have turned into almost six years.

of course the journey and the homecoming were complicated, overshadowed by covid-19 and the pandemic. i was also experiencing the worst and longest asthma flare-up i’ve ever had, ten months straight. plus just one month before, we’d said a tearful goodbye to mr. smith, our beloved (and rather famous) tuxedo cat.

physically, mentally, psychologically . . . i was a wreck.

my emotions were complex and scattered, impossible to neatly sort through. the joyful reunion with our sons, lifelong friends within reach once more. roots, familiarity. at the same time, i mourned for the new home we’d created in those four years, my italian friends, my belongings left behind.

interestingly, the impact of re-entry was oddly-yet-clearly illuminated during my trip to argentina last month. and it’s been dominating my thoughts ever since.

i recall, after the initial shock wore off, existing in a truly surreal liminal space. going through the motions, but hardly present. suspended inside an undulating lava lamp. disengaged from myself, from my core essence.

and i realized that that not-quite-settled feeling has never fully gone away. despite moving on with the pink house adventure, and life unfolding, in north idaho. despite the four trips back to italy. despite the three additional retreats at the villa. even despite the seamless thread we assume, in each location each time.

where in the world did i (do i) belong?

[stay tuned for part 2, next thursday . . .]