The Perfect (Emotional) Storm of Visiting "Home"
“Then the whirlwind begins: meeting up with friends, family cookouts for dinner, with "quick" shopping trips in between to pickup new shoes for the kids who's had holes in his soles for weeks or school supplies for the coming year.”
For a long time, The Perfect Storm was my favorite book. I picked up an extra copy whenever I saw it at a thrift store, so I could just give someone the book when I recommended it to them. I was fascinated by Sebastian Junger describing how the elements of weather, season, and human decision came together and created a perilous situation for so many people.
Home leave—or whatever you call it: furlough, R&R, or just going back for a visit—holds most of the chaos-causing elements that I generally try to keep in check on a day-to-day basis at our home. Together, they cause a tumultuous emotional phenomenon we experience each time. We go in with expectations of accomplishing everything, we stay up way too late, don't keep a consistent routine, eat lots of treats and food we aren't used to, and spend more money than we'd planned. All stress-causing factors!
In spite of this, I still get excited to go back home. While each trip looks different, the pattern is the same: There's so much I want to do in a short amount of time. I start dreaming months in advance of where we're going to eat, places to go, and people I want to see.
The month before we leave, plans take shape. Everyone wants to know where we'll be and exactly when. Scheduling this far in advance is both necessary and difficult—I have to double-check everything with family we're staying with to make sure I'm not ruining plans they've made. I juggle schedules between the Planners—friends and family who need to know way in advance when we'll be where—and the Free Spirits, who'll "be around all summer"and want to figure out a time to meet later.
Once the long-haul flight is over and we've cleared the customs line, that last short domestic flight to our ultimate destination seems to take forever. But finally we're free of airports, and joyfully greeting family. Burgers and chips and real dill pickles for dinner, with people we love around the table! It's wonderful.
That first night we stay up late even though we're exhausted, because there's lots going on and it's so nice to be able to talk face-to-face, instead of through a smartphone screen.
In the morning there's bacon and doughnuts and lots of coffee, plus a flurry of texts and emails asking if we've arrived safely and confirming or changing plans. The kids ask if we're going to McDonald's today. I assure them we'll go later in the week. Everything seems laid-back, and I think that this time we've figured out how to manage our visit so everything stays calm.
Then the whirlwind begins: meeting up with friends, family cookouts for dinner, with "quick" shopping trips in between to pickup new shoes for the kids who's had holes in his soles for weeks or school supplies for the coming year. The Free Spirit friend who was free all summer calls to say she's now going on vacation, so there's only one day she can get together. It's already booked, but I ask the Planner Friends if they are available a different day instead. I hear a little bit of annoyance in their voices over the change. I cringe, feeling like a flake.
I take the kids to McDonald's while my husband's out golfing with his brother (but I make them all come in to Chipotle with me beforehand so I can get my food). The next day it's Dad's turn to stay with the kids so I can go out for coffee—ordering in English!—with a friend, and run to the mall to replace some of my own threadbare clothes. I I understand the sizes! I don't have to convert prices in my head! (But seriously, look at those prices.) I debate myself over budget versus need.
Dividing time between families ends up more complicated in actual practice than I had thought. Everyone's toes get stepped on as we miss events they assumed we'd attend in order to meet up with someone we won't otherwise see this trip. I realize we weren't the only ones with expectations for our visit.
After a week, we've had burgers nearly every day at various houses and restaurants, and the empty suitcases we brought for stocking up on essentials are nearly full with toys our generous family and friends have given the kids. We've "popped into" the grocery store daily with some craving that can only be filled Stateside, and each time it takes an hour because I see things we should buy while we're here, but I spend ten minutes debating with myself about it because it's not on my master list. I'm thrilled with having choices but overthink every decision. The kids have had so much ice cream and snacks and fast food, they start to have stomachaches at night and complain about having to see more people.
Then, suddenly, it's time for rounds of goodbye dinners. I'm not sure I've gotten half the sleep I needed over the last few weeks. There's just too much to say and do, and it's so nice to be able to hug my mom before going to bed. (At 2am. Again.)
Last hugs at the airport are sad, but my I'm already excited about beginning our regular life again. I look forward to sleep, quiet time, and consistency. I say an absolute no to eating McDonald's at the gate (because we are not doing that to our stomachs before traveling), and the kids, having been lavished with gifts and attention and treats continually the last few weeks, pout like nobody's business. We're going to get back to normal, starting now.
I love being back in the homeland, but I'm so ready to be home. My home, the one overseas, with our own routines and kitchen and all the quirks of expat life that go along with it. Different as it is from all I grew up with, it feels like returning to the calm after a storm.
