I am back in Indiana again. The place I always return to. And I have to admit, autumn is at its glorious peak right now. It gives me the feelings I have been craving in the Middle East. I feel the cool wind, leaves crunch as I walk in the yard, and I see very thoughtful Halloween decorations around my city. This particular visit is for my brother’s wedding. Am I visiting? Isn’t Indiana the place of my current “home”? It has not felt that way as most of my time has been spent at my in-laws in Bahrain.
How spoiled am I to have travelled back and forth from Bahrain twice in a month’s time? To be honest, one of my flights was paid for through a travel rewards credit card. The other was very very cheap. Anyone who has flown economy on a long international flight will know that the experience is exhausting. Nevertheless, I have to go back sometime soon to be with my son. And to wait with him as a nearly impossible dual citizenship battle is finished.
My last post was directed towards my feelings as a mother. And the want for a break and an escape from my son.
As I have had time to think about the previous situation, I believe that even though I have complex feelings about motherhood, my struggle is not with being a mother. The issue has been living in a very restrictive place, with horrible weather, dull scenery and little control. I want to have influence over my son. I strongly believe in spending hours a day outdoors. I also wanted to put an adorable Halloween costume on my son.
Is this process worth it? My son has already missed my brother’s wedding, in which he was supposed to be the ring bearer. The holidays are quickly approaching.
The situation I am in now is ironic because the day our family left to Bahrain, I could not help to think that that I was journeying to a better place. That somehow the exhaustion and misery would lesson with help from my husband’s family. But I have an overwhelming want for “normalcy”, of a family together (mom, dad, and baby).
All of this is said with gratitude. My son is happy and cared for. But he needs his mother. He needs his father. With every bit of their imperfections.
My dear Ilya, please come home. Autumn in Indiana is not so bad after all.
musafira 