Last night Drew worked well into the evening and he’s fighting a cold, so we snuggled a few extra minutes this morning. He had decided to go late to the office if he woke up feeling as lousy as he did yesterday. Though he didn’t sleep very much later than usual, it felt strange to make a big 9 am breakfast while he checked his first round of emails… Feed a cold, right?
Anyway, I was blown away as we ate by the news of an anti-government protest that shut down the Don Mueang airport in Bangkok, Thailand. The story is fascinating. I hope that the protest is peaceful as long as it continues and that no one is harmed as the Thai government attempts to return the airport to normal operations.
Some of the passengers stranded in the airport were complaining to the protestors, who were offering the same stranded passengers food, that some of them would be missing Thanksgiving celebrations with their families in America. Suddenly, this holiday that had been so firmly ingrained into my internal calendar became as foreign sounding to me as it was to these Thai natives. Living for a few weeks in this melting pot has already given me such a greater sense of the size of the world and the nearly infinite number of cultures in it that I can not help but experience moments in which I am utterly disconnected. Of course, it takes mere seconds for the familiar to flood back in; I am saved by the invisible lines drawn between us. Our relationship saves me from being lost at sea.
Home means more to me with each passing day, but being home is becoming less about about geographic location and more about the feeling I get each time I am where I am supposed to be. Being on this adventure with Drew, across the ocean from the only place we have ever lived prior to October, is just as unexpectedly inexplicable as I thought it would be.