It’s been a rough week. Or maybe two. Nothing in particular has happened to make it rough, really. I’m just going through a down period. A blah period. A severe absence of motivation period. I’ve been reading (and speaking) too much English and not enough Azeri lately, causing my already limited language skills to be even more stunted. So I’m getting more intimidated, and it feels kind of like water must feel when it’s spiraling the drain. I know I should be speaking and studying more, but….meh.
I also need to exercise. The most exercise I’ve gotten lately is on Sunday mornings, when I can usually find time to go for a walk for an hour or so. Before I left the States, I was going to Zumba classes three times a week. I had dreams, before I left the States, visions of myself starting Zumba classes in Azerbaijan, wondering if I’d be able to convince the girls here to shake it and get crazy. I convinced my American Zumba instructor to let me borrow some of her music, and I actually HAVE, like, hours and hours and hours of pop and latin and world music on my MP3 player. Heck…I bought an MP3 player (yes, I’m years behind the times, thank you) and speakers so I could do these classes in Azerbaijan! And hopefully, I will. Someday. But right now? Meh.
I miss home. I miss my family. I miss driving my car and my scooter, neither of which I even own now. I miss my cats. I miss the freedom to go to the movies or out to a solo dinner or for a hike. I miss wearing short dresses. I miss being understood and understanding others with no effort. I miss bacon and pulled pork sammiches and Jif and spinach salads with feta cheese (not all together). I miss a lot of things. And sometimes, you know, it gets to me.
So today, when I was leaving work for lunch, the driver had a box which he was showing to my counterpart. He was showing her the mailing label on the package, wondering who would be sending a package to our office, and she pointed to the name on it…
It said “Leigh Maddox!!!!!!” (well, without the punctuation. That’s from me.)
Someone sent me a care package! I couldn’t believe it…the timing of this was impeccable! How does that WORK?! I mean, seriously. There have been periods of my life where I was so low on money I was unable to buy my kids a 25-cent pack of gum, and poof! Like magic, a refund check from the insurance company or a “just because” check from my mom would show up in the mail. Times where you wonder how you’re going to make it, and suddenly, what you need most appears at your door. That’s how I feel right now. Humbled and relieved and incredibly, unbelievably thankful.
My counterpart hasn’t yet asked me what was in the package, and for that I’m also thankful. Because how on earth do you explain Cap’n Crunch? How do you explain Jell-O? Or graham cracker crumbs and pie pans? Spices and tee-shirts and some new-fangled-towel-cooler-thing? But the best part? The best part was the hand-written letter. Not typed, but an old-fashioned pen-on-paper loopy-letter-handwriting kind of letter. Because not only did my friend spend all kinds of money on the spices and the shirts and the Jell-O (J-e-l-l-O), and an EXHORBITANT amount of money on the shipping (I’m so sorry!!!!!), but she took the time to sit down and write an actual letter. That was definitely the best part.
Though the Cap’n Crunch was a close, close second.
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