And so here I am, in the United States once again. I thought this day would never come, and yet I find myself completely caught up in it. Days go by quickly here, faster than they have all year. I’m not sure where the time goes, but it just seems to pass faster on this side of the world.

I had a layover in Los Angeles on my way to Philadelphia and my sweet mother drove down to see me. As I walked down the hallway to the exit, there she was in all of her “motherly glory” crying. I felt my throat begin to swell as I saw the mixture of happiness and relief flood her, and to be honest, I began to feel the same things. I was home, hugging my mom. She drove me to the Pacific ocean, we went to Starbucks where I heard conversations about vacations, resorts, and money that blew my mind. California. My home. My roots. My story. I struggled to keep my eyes open, as I had been traveling for 21 hours at that point. 17 of which were on a plane. But it was good to be home.

I arrived in Philly in time for the wedding which was absolutely incredible. It is amazing to watch my beloved friends grow up. I remember talking about marriage with Lindsey countless amounts of times, about love, and life. The reality of it happening to either of us was so distant at that point. However I found myself colliding with it on Friday when I held her train as she walked toward the isle. I was trying desperately not to burst into tears as I would need to get up in front of all their guests and do a scripture reading in just a few moments. None the less, my efforts were useless and I began to cry. She was too beautiful not to.

My tears were ones of happiness, ones of excitement, ones of anticipation. There were also ones of mourning, as my mind was bombarded with memories that will never be relived as single young women. And there were tears of confusion, and inundated exhaustion. I found myself overcome by all of the changes in my environment, and the company I found myself in. There I was at an event anticipated for years and talked about for months, in a place that will eventually become my home. Where was the “comfort” of India? Where was the daily schedule and routines that I had grown so accustomed to? Where was the beautiful end I had to look forward to? Now I find that it’s just open, all I have is forward, all I have is options, and to be honest it terrifies me.

People have been asking me when I’m moving to Philadelphia. The truth sometimes takes me back, even though it does feel natural to say, “Soon.” Some days when I talk about our vision I get so excited I can hardly breathe, and everything in the world makes sense. Other days I feel foolish and afraid. I’ve already heard a handful of times, “That’s nothing to do with midwifery.” Or, “Are you going to go back to India and continue what you were doing?” Or, “Why aren’t you going to school?” And I feel as though I don’t know what to say. I feel as though I am letting people down, as if anything “less than” India shouldn’t be worth my effort. The reality is that people don’t think that, well, at least the people who have asked me these questions, they are simply curious. But I find myself self conscious. Delivering babies in India, or starting a coffee house in Philly… why do I feel one is more respectable than the other? None the less, things are progressing, and we are finding that we are closer than we thought to seeing this come to fruition.

The community here is more incredible than words could do justice, and people have really taken hold of what we’re doing with enthusiasm and excitement. I’ve been blessed daily by the support we’ve received. We’ve looked at a location, talked about business plans, and things of that nature. Despite my fears I am growing increasingly more excited with every conversation about progression and commitment. I am looking forward to digging my roots in here; whatever that may look like.

We’ve spent days at water holes, and nights at bbq’s. We went to New York for the weekend and visited old friends. We’ve shared beautiful meals together, and enjoyed the company of community. I can’t help but comparing the life I’ve lived for the last two weeks to the life I have lived for the last year. They are so very different. The other day we went into this grocery store inside a masque in a near by neighborhood. I heard people speaking Arabic and I immediately began to sob. There was something in the memory of the sounds, or a longing to be immersed in them again. To be honest I can’t define what I was feeling in that moment, I was simply overwhelmed. There was a man behind the counter who seemed to understand me completely. I tried not to show my tears, but for some reason I felt as if he could see straight into my heart. When Amy was ready to pay for her things he ran into the back only to come back out with a beautiful dessert. He seemed a bit nervous and excited as he served us huge slices of this cake. I felt as if he was trying to bring a piece of the Middle East to me, as if he knew my heart was breaking for it, and it was the only thing he knew to do for me. I remembered the hospitality of Arabs, and the memory only made me weep more. I began to realize that I have a well inside of me that I have only begun to tap into. There are things from this past year that have yet to be dealt with, things that have yet to be processed. I am looking forward to the journey ahead, careful not to long for what’s been left behind.