home at last.

I've already been back in Indiana for two weeks, and it feels all too normal. The year behind me already feels like a whirlwind passed. I'm still somewhat in shock at how slowly it seemed to crawl by yet how quickly it now seems to have passed.

Hands down, I miss my kids more than anything. But home feels so good. I have experienced little to no reverse culture shock in this transition, which is somehow surprising as well as expected. I think I envisioned and longed to come home so badly that I somehow surpassed the shock. I go back and forth between how wonderful home is and this gaping hole I now find in the pit of my heart. I'm so happy, but I miss them so much it hurts.

I had requested to our church's music director that we sing a Brooklyn Tabernacle song on my first Sunday home, and I was excited to worship with church family, but when my request was granted, I found myself fighting back tears because I had taught "Days of Elijah" to my class. They loved that song, and I loved hearing and watching them sing it, and in those moments that we sang together at church, I was flooded with the memory of my beloved students.

My time with them already feels like a fleeting memory, and I'm so desperate to remember everything and forget nothing. I know I will never forget them, not one, but I'm so scared that just as all other moments in life, the memory of them will begin to fade and become more dim with time. I can only pray that it doesn't.

Thank you for reading. Thank you for supporting my journeys. Thank you for learning my kids through my eyes and loving them in any kind of capacity.

This concludes my writings about my year teaching, living, and loving in Honduras.