Luggage has been put away. All the laundry has been done; some pieces worn again and washed again by now. I’m awake and fully functioning as the sun is in the sky and tired and sleeping in the evening, the way it should be. It’s been 10 days since I returned home from China.
I keep looking at the pictures, the images I thought I had so many of that I could nearly flip through them and see an animated film. But, there aren’t enough. I keep hoping that if I look at those images I do have long enough, I will remember more details, more conversations that seemed casual at the time, more of the students’ exact words.
I long to share more. There are so many blog posts half written in my head, an outpouring of my heart in the form of written words about where we are, how we got here, and why we’re here. But, there they stay, and my heart and fast-typing fingers feel the burden of restraint. Everyone who casually asks how things are going or how my trip was is held captive while I recount the stories and share the quotes I keep hearing in my head. Yesterday, my heart was full as I spoke at a women’s group. I had scribbled down an outline on a notecard and took it up to the podium with me. But, I never looked down at it; I didn’t need to.
So, when you read posts about my homemade version of Chinese milk tea and my favorite new eggs with tomatoes recipe (coming soon, hopefully), try them out, share them, adapt them to make them even better. But, know that there is a lot more going on in my heart than tea and eggs and even reflections on parenting and my Chinese daughter. I’m just sitting on my hands because I have to.
I know your heart, I know how you feel, and I know the feeling of words in your fingertips wishing they could jump out and just erupt over every one.
Maybe we can sit down and chat sometime because I would love to hear what you CAN tell me about your trip.