The Fly

My parents and I have been visiting family non-stop since I came to North Carolina last week. The wedding in Indiana went off without a hitch, and there wasn’t a dry eye in the house unless you had some kind of weird dysfunction where you can’t cry or you have no soul. Anyway, I’ve seen family members who I literally haven’t seen since I was 4.

I’ve had some conversations about my life in Tonga, and conversations that make me think about my life in Tonga. For example, my parents and I were visiting with an older Uncle and Aunt on my Dad’s side, great people, real nice always, and they were so interested in what I’ve been doing for the past year and a half. But at some point throughout the visit the topic goes to a fly buzzing around the living room; A devilish thing that seems to pop up every now and then, who has a gift for escaping death by swatting.

My parents, Uncle, and Aunt continued to talk about the allusiveness of the fly and others like him for about 20 minutes. I sit there and think about the ravenous legends of flies that will cover a person in Tonga, especially if there’s a nice open wound to pick at. My old neighbor Lose came by my house the day I left and she had a family living on her toe that had a big open gash on it. That’s what I thought about while they were talking about the lone fly that happens to get into the house, and has mastered the ability to escape death.

It’s like I never left sometimes, and it’s also pretty weird sometimes. Some people immediately reprimand themselves for complaining about anything around me; my friend and I were walking down a street to get some lunch and she was cold, and said so, then immediately said, “Sorry, I shouldn’t complain.” After she did that a few times, I tried to assure her she hadn’t lost the right to express discomforts around me just because I, like so many people throughout the world, have experienced different discomforts. Apples and Oranges, they’re different but both fruits just the same.

I’ve been to lots of stores. I have gone into a store for an hour and came out with nothing but organic chips and a bottle of Vitamin Water. I feel bad for anyone who walks into a Grocery with me. I’ll stand in one spot for 15 minutes and finally become overwhelmed with the plethora of different options and move on to the next section of magical goodies. My first purchase in a grocery was broccoli, I knew it would be, and I ate it as a road trip snack from Indianapolis to NC; my friend Tom thought it odd.

To be continued at a later date…