Homesick

There was just something about today: something about the shade of sunlight, the temperature, and a scent in the air. Something about the woman in Starbucks wearing a stunning sage green abaya and matching veil. Something about finishing a book that reflected on one American woman's assimilation into Iraqi life and how much it pained her to leave. There was just something about today that made me very homesick for Jordan.

Homesick for those afternoons of catching the bus out to the country to visit my Jordanian family. Meeting them at the reconstructed arches on the main road. Sitting in their kitchen eating taboon bread, lebnah, zattar, fresh olive oil, and drinking gallons upon gallons of mint tea. Reclining in their TV room, watching muselsels (mini-series) or sitting in their garden eating fruit right off the branches. Wandering over to another relative's house or spontaneously deciding to drive to visit relatives that lived an hour away. Surprising them with my memory of who was related to whom and how. Just existing the moment with them.

But my homesickness is about so much more than just that. It's for what all of those memories represent to me: a connection so deep it can't be put into a words. A connection that simply assumed I would be present if they were invited anywhere - that just accepted my honor as their honor. An honor to be defended if ever questioned. It was the feeling of simply being - completely, entirely, fully, passionately, and peacefully being. And knowing that that was more than enough.