Something about these words at the immigration post on Newark International Airport on a cold dreary wintery Saturday morning had a soothing comforting ring to them. I was back. After a short stint working for an NGO in India, I was back.
I could write much to reflect on the past year - could fill tomes on the experiences, the work, the sheer joys of helping people, utmost periods of loneliness away from family and friends, the beautiful places that I saw, the delicious food that I ate, the many conversations that I had with the wonderful people I met, and the sheer diversity that is India. Great life experience - as a friend recently told me. I wouldn't trade it for a second!
But for now, I'm glad to be back home.
Yes, I said home. America has strangely become home in the short time that I was gone. Kenya will always remain home - place of my birth, and India will always remain the country of my roots, but America is now my home. And I'm glad to be home..where those that I call my own live.
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