Las Palmas | Freedom

I am at a loss for words for how I feel in Las Palmas.

Its been relief. Leadership knew how desperate we were for a taste of civilization, and graciously set up a shuttle for our first weekend here. It feels melo-dramatic, but I feel emotional even writing about this weekend. I’ve caught my breath. I’ve been revived. Its felt like life before the pandemic. I experienced coffee shops and things opening slowly in Memphis, but being in a foreign country, wandering winding streets, rying to find the cafes the locals inhabit - Its all like home. I’m reminded of the book I read before coming here titled “At Home in the World.” I’ve been so desperate for this for so long. When I look back to July, August, September of last year I remember longing for this - I even wrote,

"This is the longest I’ve stayed in Tennessee since I was 18, and I feel it. 

I want to find a temporary home again. Somewhere the breeze hits as I walk to the bus stop. Somewhere where I’ve never been - I can’t find my way home even if I tried. I want to feel the panic of a 4% phone battery getting off the plane, praying that finding platform B3 is easy. 

Its borderline unbearable at moments. 

I don’t know if other TCKs feel like, but I almost can’t breathe if I think about it for too long. That sounds so dramatic… its just like I am being told I can’t go home. My visa is being denied. I can’t go home. 

Like quarantine will never end, and travel will be changing for so long-maybe for good. 

I miss it. 

Laughing with a stranger after watching the wind catch a man across the street hat.”

And I’m here. The breeze is hitting me as I walk to our bus stop. I’ve laughed with strangers. I’m home.