| Dear Family and Friends, It�s slowly starting to sink in . . .my Peace Corps Service reaches its grand finale in about 30 days. One month from today I�ll be sipping milky tea and inhaling sausage rolls in England. How is that possible?! Where has the time gone?! It seems just like just the day before yesterday that I boarded the airplane that would sweep me away from all that was familiar . . . "C-c-c-come and v-visit meee," I sniffled to my parents with one last meager wave. I dawdled my way down the boarding ramp wondering, "What in the WORLD have I gotten myself into?!!? Where in the WORLD am I going and what awaits me there?!!?" I was absolutely clueless as I made my way to my seat, watching and waiting anxiously for my new Peace Corps friend, Sarah, to see if she was experiencing the same range of emotions that I was. As I climbed nervously into my seat and prepared for take-off, that was when the floodgates really broke loose. Have you ever had the misfortune of sitting next to a crying child on an airplane? Well, try sitting next to a crying adult! "Honey, are you okay?" the old woman next to me asked cautiously. "I just joined the P-P-Peace Corps!" I blubbered inconsolably. "I'm moving to B-B-B-BULGARIA for TWO YEARS! Waaahhh!!!" She nodded sympathetically as she handed me a Kleenex to catch the salty tears and the strings of snot dribbling from my erupting nose. "What in the WORLD have I gotten myself into?!!?" I questioned with a sob. It seems like just this afternoon my group of 53 frightened Peace Corps trainees arrived within the boundaries of this new, uncharted life. Oh, how my body tingled from my head down to my toes as our plane made its final descent! Oh, what adventures awaited me around every corner! Oh, what experiences anticipated my arrival with baited breath! "That's my home for the next TWO years of my life," I muttered to myself, gazing in wonder at the rolling green hills below me. And, oh, what a fanfare greeted us as we lugged those too-heavy bags, which held the next two years of our lives within their sinewy crevices. "Wanna cherry?!" the fanfare shouted in unadulterated glee. "Ummmm, NO . . . . but do you have a bed handy? Or how 'bout just a pillow?!!?" Ahhhh, bittersweet memories . . . The other day, I attended my Bulgarian sister's 9th birthday party. I was one of the very few adults in attendance and I was certainly the only adult without a small child clinging to my sweaty palm. So, I just grinned foolishly as hordes of small children bounced spastic balloons in both my face and my turkey. As I walked to the party, I pondered, "This is one of the last times that I'll ever get to walk along this road ever again." I looked up at the bright blue sky and I thought, "How many more times will I be able to look up into a Bulgarian sky?" As I was lost in my thoughts, Iva spotted me from the terrace of her house just up the road and she was gone like a little bolt of lightening. Within seconds, I saw her flying down the rutted cobblestone road with her arms outstretched and a smile lighting up her face. It took me back to a time that seems just like two days from yesterday . . . I would trudge home from an arduous day of training, engaging in deadly arguments with my gurgling stomach. "Toughen up!" I'd chastise with a vicious glare. "You KNOW you're going to have to slurp down some more grease-intoxicated meatballs and seizure-inducing rakiya as soon as we get home anyway! Come on, be a man, I think we could live without yet another trip to the toilet again today!" My mind would be mush as I'd trudge that steep hill home, the hot sun beating down upon my wrinkled brow and my feet wondering if we would EVER get there. I was always certain that my brain couldn't handle an ounce more of Bulgarian, but I knew I'd get home and my host family would want to speak in nothing BUT until I would have to cry out in mercy! Many of those long walks home, pounding sneakers on the cobblestones would interrupt my thoughts. "Chantel! Kako (Big Sister)!" a little voice would cry as two little arms would fly around my waist. Then, I'd take a little hand in mine, all else forgotten, and we'd trek the rest of the way home together, hand-in-hand. Just a couple of months ago, I couldn't wait to get out of here; now, I'm wondering how I could ever leave. At the birthday party, a couple of children that I hadn't seen in awhile were in attendance and I marveled at how much they've grown since the last time I saw them. One, a toddler upon our first meeting, has become a child; the other, a gangly teenager, has become a man. That was when it finally occurred to me. I have seen two years of my life pass me by here in Bulgaria. I have seen things change and grow, I have seen things happen and prosper. At home, friends and family members have gotten married, loved ones have moved and changed their lives, kids have grown and transformed, a lot has happened and come to pass. My life in Bulgaria is so completely separate from that life, that familiarity, at home, and none of my friends and loved ones can truly understand and relate to what the last two years of my life has been like. No one can truly understand just how much I have also grown and changed. And, for this experience and these last two years, I am truly grateful. So many memories and so many stories stored within my churning head. I try daily to explain this sudden nostalgia, this overwhelming emotional overload. I see a man herding goats along a dusty street and I get teary-eyed! I find myself wanting to cry over horse carts carrying Roma families through town, cooking up huge, delicious meals with Peace Corps friends and then passing out in food coma, and watching Bulgarians working anxiously in their gardens in preparation for this summer's produce. I had to fight back tears when Iva ran to greet me on the day of her birthday! I spent the night with my Bulgarian family that night and, upon waking up in the morning before, Iva, I slipped into her bed with her to cuddle before we began our day, biting back the tears that threatened to flow. My Bulgarian sister has gotten extra cuddly these days, also, telling me often that I "don't have to leave"! Am I sorry my service is ending in a month?! Of course not, because I know it's time for me to move on, to open that next chapter in my life, and the mold the last two years into yet another fond memory. It's time, I know, but I'm realizing that it's not going to be as easy as I thought it was. Thirty days from today, when I board the airplane bound for that life I once knew, I just hope that there is once again a kind old lady seated in the seat next to me. "Honey, are you okay?" she will ask, as she hands me a Kleenex to catch all of those salty tears and those strings of snot dribbling from my erupting nose. *Yes, I'm okay.* See You In 30 Days!!! Chantel |
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