I Better Pop Out Some Babies to Tell These Stories To

On and off, I’ve been writing.  Over dinner the other evening, my date had told me that he’d decided to become a surgeon when his hard drive storing his full collection of stories crashed.

I may have visibly gasped.

I’d told him that I had found old journals of mine, dating back from when I was 9.  It’s embarrassing to admit that certain core parts of me have not changed, nor would I want it to.  I love reading those so I remember the exact feeling of the moment and relive it, for better or for worse.  And I tended to wrote when it was worse, likely because I was too happy having a blast to want to interrupt it to write.

That has changed, surely.

Today marks the one year anniversary of my H1N1.  The event unfolded in a strange bizarre way over Twitter.  And people across the globe, literally came to my aid.  Finding hospitals, filling up my phone card whilst I was in the hospital, sending my phone numbers to the CDC.  And as I got sicker and sicker, someone finally alerted the news media of my strange situation.  That I was stuck in a hotel, hoping to not contaminate anyone, and unable to get hospital help because none of the Hong Kong officials could understand that I was really an American tourist who was entitled to quarantine, not a local HKese who could stay home and sleep it off.

I think of the people who have read my silly quips about living abroad, and those who stepped in to make it happen.  Strangers who took me into their homes sight unseen, and strangers that I’ve taken into my home in the same manner.  I’ve been one lucky lucky girl.

Now that I’m settling in, I have other challenges to face, and other adventures to experience.  They are all on the ‘home’ front.  I will always miss being out there, and hope that I can be out there again.  And it was only after having had this experience that I can truly understand the look in my dad’s eyes when he told me the stories of his travels, years ago.  And boy, I wish I could go back in time to rehear those stories that he no longer tells, so I can really appreciate it, the way only someone who’s been there can.

Today I sat with a friend, talking shop, and specifically around China.  I felt like a weight had been lifted, taht I could speak to someone on my native soil about everything that happened there, without hesitation, or judgement because I knew that he would simply understand.  These friends are not rare, but my time with them is.

I treasure every moment.