Avens

The first year I talked to a lot more folks from home than this year. Perhaps it's because we see each other online so much that we don't really consider one another. I think the distance is muted when my little name pops up on the screen. There's the boring comfort that I'm still here. It appears that my far away adventure isn't so risky or interesting after all. How can it be if she has internet?

I'm not upset by the ellipses in communication. I'm so far away; it's only natural. I've substituted much of my correspondence home with actual communication to people here. I have new characters in my life whom I've not had the urge to write about. I noticed when the line between novel and real started to fade months and months ago, and to write about these people now would have to be through a different approach.

I suppose some of the communication break-down with home is because it's no longer an exotic fairytale, nor anecdotes for my friends, or readers. I've sort of become used to that mode of thought, but I feel myself outgrowing it.

I still pine for my friends and familiarity while time putters forward. It saddens me a bit that those I love are not growing alongside with me, and we're all busy sprouting our own ways. However, I'm also grateful that I have to do this on my own.

I feel myself regrouping. This year, which may turn into an actual year more as I'm considering extending my service, I'm starting to pay more attention. I'm beginning to perceive myself in this context more concretely than even a month ago. My host mom and I were talking today about my time here. I was explaining how much more I've come to understand now, how much I've learned. She responded that when I first arrived and started working here I was still green, too new. Thus, these last months of inertia I've simply been budding. This week, it seems, I am finally beginning to blossom.