Drew's been back almost a month

It's been several weeks of whirlwind catch-ups with familiar people once made improbable by distance, now a finger's breadth away, now tugging at my elbow, embracing me, clutching my collar, planting kisses on my neck. I've drifted gratefully, dazed and delighted, caught up in endless fits of laughter, wrecked with giggling delights and secret whispers, dusting off old incantations and summoning treasured friendships back to life.

It is a miracle, this - to be loved in abundance, soaked, raised, stained, tossed, to be held warm against a loved one refusing to let go, a bristled cheek, a silken hand, an endless howling chorus of friendly hellos, my heart a great golden calliope, a gilded commotion of memories and wanting.

Also I've been back almost a month now and I still haven't gotten used to the smell.

Little things trigger the strangest feelings. Sitting on the porch, a great tidal wave of green grass comes and now I'm reliving bike rides at 8 years old, dare-deviling, the mumble of a thousand childhood secrets rumbling like distant summer thunder. I sit and let it consume me, let it play out across my skin as sweat and goosebumps, a tickle at the back of my throat, the memory of a nickname, a warning, the foolery of bravish things only children can muster.

It's a pleasant burden but a burden nonetheless, getting resituated, finding the old places long ago made and set for me, the hollows I left empty now revisited, warmed again. A burden also to find the spaces I've outgrown or that have outgrown me, the shape of them now unfamiliar, nothing fitting quite like it used to or at all.

It is great to be home.

Now. Brace yourselves. 

This is the part where I tell you how much I miss South Africa.

Here are pictures of me at moments of spectacular bliss.

This is the part where I get reflective and emotional, summoning tidal waves of gratitude and mixed feelings of excitement and sadness. This is the part where I talk about all the wonderful things I've learned and the fantastic people I've met, how my life has been irrevocably changed for the better, my mind expanded and open, my horizons broadened.

Here are pictures of me walking, running, hiking, climbing.

This is the part where I balance my experiences on a series of metaphors and wax poetic about having taken advantage of once in a lifetime opportunities.

Here are pictures of me thoughtful, pensive, attentive, deliberate, focused.

This is the part where I use words like “unforgettable”, “profound”, “extraordinary”, “amazing”, “incredible”, the part where I spout superlatives like “Best”, “Oldest”, “Kindest”, “Nicest”, “Sweetest”, “Craziest”, “Saddest”, “Strangest”. This is the part where I make note of important life lessons I've learned and committed to preserving in my heart.

Here are pictures of me with some delightful children.

This is the part where I assure you that I am DEFINITELY coming back.

Here are pictures of me hard at work, fussing with equipment, asleep on a bus, eating, smiling, laughing, mundane yet out of context. 

This is the part where I tell you that there’s no way I can summarize Cape Town in a single post. This is the part where I proceed to summarize Cape Town in a single post. This the part where I highlight my firsts and lasts, my highs and lows, and my sadness at the thought of leaving.

This is the part where I tell you “There’s no place like Cape Town”.

...

The final day of my internship, I walked the 3km (1.8 miles) to the station, taking my time, taking photographs, stopping to smell the roses, (literally on one occasion), listening to the vibrant morning thrum and bustle of the busy city streets. The sky was bright and clear. Devil’s Peak seemed to be standing taller that day, proud with its shoulders back and chest out. The familiar shops and offices along the road seemed to stand out a bit more, somehow made new and interesting again.

The minibus criers sang out like errant tenors.

WYNBERG!

MOWBRAY!

CAPE TOWN!

It was a familiar fare by now but somehow today had imbued everything with odd newness. I know this street, that shop, that sign, but have never seen them like this. I was noticing things I hadn't noticed before.

I stopped just outside the door of the radio station, took a deep breath, and looked around. A passerby stopped walking long enough to ask, "Are you lost?"

"No, I'm ok, thanks. I'm right where I should be," I said. And then I opened the door.