30 May 2012
Sand. Grains orange like sunset, bright against the white fabric. Filling the corners of my pockets and clinging to my skin, as Morocco clings to my mind.
I’ve been home for a week now. My suitcase is unpacked, most of my gifts and souvenirs have been sorted, but I’m still finding unexpected treasures from my life in Morocco. Like the pants I’m wearing. I thought the pockets were bunched up after I put them on, but when I went to straighten the lumps out, my fingers encountered fine sand, as bright as a sunset over the Sahara, which is, in fact, where it came from.
I realize I must have worn these on ISA’s last excursion to Merzouga, where we visited the Sahara desert almost a month ago now. I can’t believe it’s been so long, and at the same time so short. Time passes strangely while in transition and re-entry into the States is definitely a big transition to make.
I admit it’s not always fun, but neither is this re-entry as difficult as some others I have faced in the past. I miss Morocco and have some culture shock, but I’m not completely depressed. Perhaps, like all things, the transition becomes easier with time and practice.