Since we arrived in Morocco...
Barren fig trees have grown resplendently leafy and luxurious.
Snow-capped mountains have melted away, leaving endless shades of green and dirt.
Ripe oranges, plucked, have given way to orange blossoms, whose fragrance delicately scents the hot, heavy air.
I've gotten to really live somewhere different.
To linger in cafes.
Luxuriate in a country where time feels slower. Experience a new culture from an insider perspective. Walk in the deep plush sand of the Sahara. Meet artisans carrying on ancient traditions in their crafts. Dip my toes in chilly ocean waters. Binge on pastries that cost just a quarter each.
To learn what I love in Morocco, and where I want to spend more time.
And yet. If only.
Six weeks is not really enough time to "find" yourself. That phrase I always hated, finding it so self-indulgent. I felt like big ideas about life really started flowing, but only the last few days. Or maybe it's the pressure of something ending that started them, rather than the whole amount of time away.
I'm not sure.
And so on.
Back in NY, we're starting to re-settle 3200 miles from where we lived before our trip. I'm from here, but it feels new after a decade on the West Coast. It's scary...but also exhilarating. We've got a lot of exploring ahead of us, and I'm hoping to write about it here.
Because something I did learn is that I like writing in this blog.