Nothing Like Home
This post is to go on our i-ACT8 Day 1 page, but it seems like I’ve been away from home for so long. I miss my kids, Mimi and Gabo. It is the hardest part of coming on these trips. It makes me sad that I leave them, and I am continuously reminded of them, when walking the camps with children all around me, hanging from my hands and tugging at my shirt.
Home is so, so nice. I live close to the beach, where Katie-Jay and I walk and run regularly. We hang out with the kids and play games and watch movies. We eat so much! I love to eat. It is not just the eating; it is the sense of family and community that comes from sitting at a table with people you love and having that time to share about everything going through our heads and to laugh at the silliest of things.
I miss the things that might seem trivial, like cold diet sodas. I mention this way too much on these trips, but–from the list of trivial– it’s pretty major for me! Being away from home, tired, dirty, and hungry would be not so bad, if I had a tall cup full of ice and diet coke or pepsi.
Home. It is the one word and concept that has come up the most during all of my trips to these refugee camps. The people talk of homes destroyed. They talk of homes missed. They talk of homes they want to go back to. They talk of homes that will be rebuilt and made stronger.