June 4 2007

Upon my return home to canton, my mother greeted me with a pile of mail. At the top of this pile, there sat a letter that I wrote to myself just before my high school graduation. My twelfth grade humanities teacher mailed it to me recently. In the letter, my eighteen-year-old self gave me better advice than I ever think I could give myself now. In so many ways, and from all the experiences I have had, I know I have grown up in the last four years. After reading this letter, though, I feel as if I have grown down in certain ways as well. I will not go into details for the world to read here, but let me share one part of my letter that struck me as important:

My letter began,
"Dear Amanda,
This is yourself writing to you from four years ago. You are probably getting ready to graduate from college, or you have already done so. Maybe you have switched majors and still have another year to go. You might even be traveling the world like you've always wanted to do. Whatever you are doing with your life, I hope all is going well for you."

"You might even be traveling the world like you've always wanted to do." I find it interesting that this letter was delivered while I was traveling in India. I am amazed at the experiences I have had over the past four years; amazed at the fact that I have been able to travel to so many new and exciting and life-changing places.

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As I sit here at home in Michigan, I feel uncomfortable about how quiet everything feels. The chaos of India drove me crazy, but now I'm longing for the amount of people that surrounded me there; for the constant human touch, even if that did mean beggars and small shopkeepers pinching at the backs of my arms. I flew into Chicago on Monday, and even Chicago felt like a small town to me after India. What a shock that was! The streets felt so empty and organized--I almost forgot that I had to wait to cross the street; that I had to cross at designated places. Not everyone says hello here in the USA. This is one thing I am okay with. While I loved the people of India, my introverted-self grew weary from having to interact with people constantly. Everyone wants to talk to you and take your photo all the time, and I was always with other members from my group. While I loved everyone, my soul longed for some quality alone-time. Although I miss the chaos and noise of India, I realize now that I am even more thankful for the quiet and comfort of home.


As I begin to sort through the 2,000 photos I have from India and France, I will begin to post updates for you all to read.