Puzzle Pieces

I am back on American soil. Have been for almost a week now and it's been more or less what I expected it to be. The familiar sights and sounds, the small things that have thrown me off (e.g. free refills and water) and sliding right back into the American way of life. This year has been a crazy ride and I can't quite find all my thoughts yet but I do want to write this down before I forget.

When I was thinking about returning to the United States throughout the year, a common theme surfaced in my head: how I'm going to look to other people after year. Not physically, of course, I don't think looks change that much in a year but I am so fearful of how my behaviors will look to someone who wasn't along for the ride. Even explaining a story to someone interested can end up sounding like a bragging Spiel. I don't want to be that guy, but it seems almost impossible not to be if I ever want anyone to know what I went through during the year. Finding no solution, I supposed it'd have to be a trial by fire.

So far I've passed.

This week was filled with reunions and there will be many more as I head back from New York to home sweet home in the heart of North Carolina. What's shocked me the most about this time being back is how quickly things with people I hadn't seen in almost a year and activities I haven't done in that same span of time seemed relatively comfortable. I may be an outlier but it was as if I activated the multitasking app on an iPhone; the moment I shifted back to the America app, things continued running the way I remember them.

In absolutely no manner does this mean there aren't things I see as uncomfortable and "oddly" out of place but I haven't yet faced those battles myself. I should thank my friends for that, we didn't skip a beat and it makes things so much better before I can get absorbed into my own thoughts of self-loathing and Germany-missing. There are so many parts of myself that I left back in Germany, I managed to haul a suitcase full of crap back with me but there are plenty of things that I couldn't throw over my shoulder before hopping onto that 787. I think I've started to realize this is simply how my life will be led. I deliberately found a second home, a land that I looked at and consciously thought, "this place looks awesome, let's start dedicating time to it." What else did I expect?

I used a Voldemort reference and Horcruxes all the way back in Deutschland but I think that's kind of how my spirit feels. There's a sliver of Clifford just roaming Germany waiting for its host to return. Certainly the sliver wandering around America is refreshed to have its host back, uncertain for how long he will stick around this time and curious as to how he will react to being in a land where the smallest nuances make the biggest cultural differences.

Yet, despite this duality that may seem troubling, it's fascinating to see my behavior since our return journey. There's more of me to be expressed and to interact with. I catch myself (more times than I might like to admit to a psychiatrist) talking to myself in German, as if I want to have a conversation with German Clifford. The one who's all those miles away just lingering, waiting. Is this a phenomenon of the well traveled bunch? I imagine the personality as a large puzzle, each piece has a dedicated spot; core traits taking their positions at the respective corners of the board.

What if, however, there were multiple puzzle pieces for each spot of the board? Two pieces that fit perfectly into each spot and corner, all completing the puzzle in perfect symmetry. There are two different ways Clifford would act if he were, say, stepping onto a basketball court with a bunch of strangers. German Clifford would, not because he's unfriendly or lacks curiosity, simply walk on the court and start playing. American Clifford would smile, say hello, ask how often these guys played here, not necessarily because he's super friendly and curious. I know this because I've been both.

Now what though? I am certain that as I place puzzle pieces in their spots as I prepare to face each day some aspects of my German Horcrux self will float into their well-deserved niche without a second notice. The red, white and blue pieces are sometimes switched with the black, red and yellow pieces.  I was gone for a year; a long enough time that I adopted habits that are not, necessarily, "normal" for American standards. Perhaps I should prepare a speech explaining to each and every person somewhere along the lines of, "Oh sorry, I was in Germany for a year, I'm just getting back into the swing of this American life. You guys do it so differently over here." Then I sound like that guy all over again.

Maybe I'll just have to get better at puzzles.

Such Sweet Sorrow

That I shall say good night till it be morrow.

-Romeo & Juliet (Act II. Scene II)

I have never really been the emotional type. Graduation from high school was a natural step. The people I wanted to see again, I was sure I would see again and the people I'd been acquainted with...well if we crossed paths it'd be nice to see you again but I wasn't going to have a conniption about it. College was pretty much the same, I had my group of friends who I know I'll stay close with (the same group I talk to on a daily basis even all the way across the Atlantic Ocean) after everything was said and done and those subsidiary friends, who were going to get a text every now and then, they were just that. This is all to say I have never really had to go through what I'm going through now.

William Shakespeare (or any collection of writers who created Romeo & Juliet) once informed us of the sweet sorrow of parting. I can relate to this oxymoronic statement perfectly; it seems me and my buddy William have more in common than a keen way with words. The reason Juliet told Romeo that parting with him was a sweet yet sorrowful action was, perhaps, because she was implying that doing anything with Romeo brought pleasure to her brain. I had a sort of Juliet moment this evening. 

Today was my last Lacrosse practice in Münster and while most of the two and a half hours I spent with the team were completely normal, it was when I was saying my goodbyes that the emotions really started to hit me. Perhaps this is how you are supposed to feel when faced with separation, but it was a wholly new feeling for me. This is my family, there was never a dark enough time, a painful enough, difficult enough time in my stay in Germany that I couldn't look ahead to the next practice and think, "At least I'll be with the team soon." As much as a crutch as one can have in a foreign situation, that was my Lacrosse team.

And so, although I have tried my best to remain emotionally guarded, and although they know I regard them very highly, I let myself become the emotional type. I don't know, maybe it's because this seems so definite. High school never seemed like a true parting ceremony because I still have a home in Chapel Hill, North Carolina, 27517 that I return to religiously. College was the same. I know I have a home at The House and my "family" travels with me wherever I go, even if merely by telephone. This, too, may end up fostering relationships that last a lifetime, I have no doubt that there are friendships and family bonds I have made during this year that will continue to bud and grow, that was never a concern. The real issue for me, the real concern and trigger that caused the wave of emotion to come over me is that it's so much more definite. This may literally have been the last time I see some of those faces again, the last time I catch a pass from a teammate or yell instructions, in frustration, at a great friend. It's something that hasn't ever hit me as hard as this time around and it might be because I have always had a sense of understanding that there would be a next time. 

There isn't quite such a sense of "next time" with Münster, Westfalen, Deutschland, Postleitzahl 48151. I can say as much as I want that I'll be back, and I truly believe I will, I know in my heart of hearts I will, but unlike Chapel Hill, which barring me peeling over and making a premature trip to the pearly gates will be graced with my presence once more, I can't be certain. That's a beauty of life that I think I've developed in this year. We are so used to knowing everything, having a plan and executing the plan in the exact manner that we drew it up. We are disappointed when our plans don't pan out the way we wanted them to and we see ourselves as failures when things change or veer off course. This year has been one of spontaneity, of trust and of leaping off the cliffs and looking once I've landed, thankful that it was only a five foot drop every time my feet touched down soundly on the ground. 

Maybe that's the entire lesson I'm trying to teach myself as my fingers rapidly dash across the keyboard, searching for an answer that I've yet to find. The ground here is solid. It has been a tough ride, a hard journey, far away from my family, far away from every soul I'd previously called a friend but it's finally over. The car has stopped and we're slowly unpacking our luggage, a sigh of relief escaped somewhere from the back seat and the keys were pulled out of the ignition as we finally reached our destination. I glance over the driver's seat to see everything that was left in the rear view and smile, relieved that I finally made it to where I wanted to be, where I thought I'd be after all this time. Then I realize I have to turn back, head back home, back to where the journey started. 

There's nothing wrong with a return journey, it's just that this ground, this destination is so solid. The peace and quiet of a still engine and the knowledge that a vehicle has finally been able to settle down after being pushed to the brink to get to this firmament. "Are we there yet" someone whines from the back, and just as I want to answer yes, the destination changes. It will be exhausting, long and full of trouble and toil heading back from where I came, and the sights, sounds, and hitch hikers I picked up along the way are sure to be etched into my memory as the mile markers pass by. 

And as much as I'm sure that I'll be ready for another road trip, the roads of life are ever changing. So I keep the image I saw in my rear view locked into my memory, in case the car breaks down along the way.