For those of you who don't know me here, I'm Pat, and I've been away from home vagabonding in South America for about two and a half years now. I'm 21, and am absolutely ingrained in the road lifestyle by now. Leaving the US was the best decision I ever made. I think I can say with certianty that every day I wake up, I feel just a little bit happier than I was the day before. The adventures and challenges of the road give me feelings of great joy. Addictive feelings - but in a good way.
A few months ago my Dad made an offer to me: Come home for Christmas. He would take care of the plane ticket, a gift to me from him. Stay for a month. Fly back to Brazil.
At first I didn't want to accept it. I've always had this wierd paranoia in the back of my head that says if I go home some tragic event will befall me, and I will be unable to continue my adventures. Or maybe my Dad will tie me up in the garage and not let me out until I agree to stay home; I'm pretty sure he's still stronger than me.
But then I realized I would accept it. I love my family very very much. I miss them...a lot. I see things every day that remind me of them - even though how could you see things that remind you of your kid sister in the middle of the jungle?
I miss my grandparents, who are so old and sending me emails every day telling me how much they are looking foreward to seeing me. I miss my brother, constantly playing the piano in the background like a demented Motzart on crack. I miss my dog Hank, who is a big sappy goof-ball and who runs like a retarted gazelle.
I even miss backwoods East Texas. The smell of the loblolly pines, the muddy ponds filled with catfish and water moccosins, the dirt roads, and even the rednecks. I want crappy Lone Star Beer. I want to watch my neighbour run down hogs with his pack of mangy dogs, while he spits tobacco and says, "Yep, that un'll make a good steak." I want to shoot trees with bird shot with my friend Joe. I want to ride the 4-wheeler through freezing muck on Christmas Day and come home caked in filth, frozen solid and grinning wider than the Cheshire Cat.
I miss it all. I [i:784ff94432]want[/i:784ff94432] to go home.
My flight leaves the day after tomorrow. It took me a good month and a half to hitch it here to Belém all the way from Uruguay. I made it in time - barely. I'm sleeping in the plaza, having found a nice spot where nobody bothers me too much, and that's out of the torrental Amazonian rain. I've spent all my busking money on Christmas presents, which feels very uplifting because I can picture the looks on my family's face when I come bearing gifts, since they are well aware of the fact that I often miss meals for want of money. They deserve them.
Anyhow, the point is, despite the fact that I am looking foreward to heading home very much, I still feel nervous. And...well, I have sort of a feeling of impending doom. What if there's a problem with my visa? What if they don't let me come back to South America, the land I've learned to love so much more than my birthplace? The wonderful, exciting, beautiful place where, despite the new and exciting things I see and learn every day, still feels more to me like home than East Texas?
Everybody on here seems nervous about leaving home. I'm just nervous about [i:784ff94432]going[/i:784ff94432] home.
Any thoughts, friends?
I'm spending the night in the airport tomorrow night, sure to find WiFi. I would like to hear some encouragement and thoughts from kindrid spirits.
-MN
[i:784ff94432]edit: grammar[/i:784ff94432]
