Here and there and everywhere.

Today I went to the swimming pool with my host aunt. The sun was hot in the sky as we floating around and exchanged a few words in Thai. After a bit I start to swim. Looking around, of course I see no other white people, but I'm used to this. It's the lack of swimming that I notice most; people float around and perhaps swim a few strokes every once in a while but no one really swims for the sake of swimming laps. It makes me feel a bit self conscious but as I glide through the water I try and will myself to forget that at least six pairs of eyes are watching me. Swimming freestyle I feel fine, smooth... I swim at a good pace and I'm pleased to know that I haven't forgotten how. It's a pool and though it's not the Palmer Pool in Alaska and it's not full of familiar faces, it's comfortable in it's own unique way. The next time I push off from the wall I choose breaststroke-- the stroke I spend the most time trying to perfect, the stroke I love to race, my favorite. As I swim a few meters I feel a lump form in the back of my throat. I need air but I push myself forward in the water instead. My goggles fog up and the lump grows larger. At home, right now I think to myself, my teammates are just waking up. They are heading off to a day at Palmer High School and then to swim practice... if I was at home right now, I would be doing just the same. If I was home right now I would be spending two hours in the pool five days a week, I would have a competition this weekend and I would likely be packing my bags tonight. I try and will the lump in the back of my throat away but it's standing it's ground. Today I miss swim team, the people, the familiar faces. After swimming a bit more I feel my heart begin to beat a bit faster.  I wonder what my fellow teammates will swim today... perhaps a dreaded fly set or a distance set or perhaps it's an easier day, a kick-swim set maybe. I realize that I miss the feeling of being out of breath, the exhaustion after a long, hard set and dry land workout. Here, I am always exhausted by the end of the day, but it's my mind that's exhausted, not my body. This is proven by the fact that I feel as though I could keep swimming for hours if it weren't for my eyelid's constant want to droop... As we leave the pool I know that I am glad I came but I am also glad to leave.

Talking to people at home the last few days I've been reminded that the State Fair is going on. It's strange to think that I almost forgot about the fair which is such a big deal in Palmer. I'm realizing now that I think a teeny tiny part of me had the idea that while I was away, time would stop. A tiny piece of me thought or maybe hoped, that when I returned from exchange I would pick up exactly where I left off...from August 9th, 2012. Time in Thailand would fly by, but I wouldn't miss anything at home. I fully realize now, that life goes on. Not only in Thailand, but also in Alaska. Days flip past both here and there. Here and there and everywhere... but this doesn't upset me. I wouldn't give up my life in Thailand for anything. Though at times I must employ all my patience, sit back and smile though I'm truly entirely frustrated and confused... or hold back the voice in my head that's screaming at me that Thai is too difficult and studying is futile, I truly appreciate every moment of it. When I go home, there will be no denying the fact that I've missed an entire year of simple happenings in the place that I love so dearly and that changes have occurred. Some people, places and things will be unrecognizable and others as familiar as ever. But, going home is ages away and I have multitudes of exciting adventures to go on and friendships to form before then. Though there are certainly times when I miss my family, my home, peanut butter and my pets, I know that this year abroad is still my dream come true.

Kearn