Time has passed, and I’m borne back home on the wings of a plane. Just as the large, man-made marvel carries me, I, a small, man-made marvel carry oddities across the air.
With modern technology, we now can cross time zones so quickly. In less than a day, I am home, the same sun winking at me through the clouds as if I’d never left. And yet, I’ve travelled far enough that the world has changed. The trees are waxier, the humidity thicker, the culture more direct.
The people and community, my locus of contact are different.
Of course, with our era of connectivity, there is no absolute distance or change. I close an eye and video call the sister I left, and I can hear her voice beside me again. I blur a line, and I can shift the temperature to one that doesn’t have me immediately breaking out in sweat. I open a screen, and my deadlines and schedules adjust themselves accordingly so my meetings and plans will hit the ground running.
If I let a few things slide, it would be like I never left at all, returning home as smoothly as a duck diving into a pond.
And yet, though I will do these things with time, for now, I choose to stand in the balmy air upon my return, and I hear the altered soundscape, the smells that spice the air.
Though the world can accommodate quick shifts and seamless transfers, my physical body and mind feel adrift, not yet caught up to my new reality. So I stand there. I do not yet yank myself back into re-existence in a different form. I let myself feel the friction of discomfort.
I reintroduce myself back into my life.
A part of said life is my community. I’ve carried with me postcards, art made from a local artist abroad, of native animals mischievously interacting with ceramics.
Each of the animals contain something that is reminiscent of a close connection-a flash of red elegance reminding me of the steady elegance of a friend, intricate designs of china alike the complex beauty of another.
For each, I picture them in my mind’s eye, and let my thoughts wander. The experiences we’ve shared, the time we’ve spent apart- the ways in which we’ve shifted and grown, and the ways in which we’ve stayed the same. It is simple appreciation, a note of presence and greeting.
Then, an item.
For one, it is a bag of things she’d asked me to bring from overseas: clothes, perfumes and other items of interest that were pricier to ship directly home. For another friend, a dress and a pair of shoes I’d happened to borrow previously, freshly washed and pressed. Many others still, books they’ve expressed interest in during our conversations.
The cards and items together feel more symbolic: words, timing and thought all combining to make it not so much a gift, but a representation of our interconnectedness, my desire to stay connected to them even after time apart.
Each item now carries meaning, memories and well-wishes with the pass of hands, an exchange of positive intentions and a sharing of materials. As I prepare them, I feel myself growing excited to meet my friends, to hand them these bundles, and to reconnect once more, priming my own nervous system for the different people and social groups I will now be seeing instead.
It is a small thing.
But it means something to me, the adding of magic to a mundane moment. The sprinkle of extra thought upon an action of good will. After all, what is life but what we make it?
So I seal the envelopes, put my little bundles together, and in doing so, dip my toes into the pond of my home community and squeal in excitement. The water is pleasantly cool.
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