At the beginning of
the summer, not long after I arrived in VT, I wrote this:
I’d forgotten what it’s like to be cold, how green the
plants are, how soft grass can be on my bare feet, the beauty of sun streaming
across the green hills and fields and lighting up a dark thunderhead. So much
color.
I’m remembering what it feels like to walk on the street in
shorts and tank top, skin exposed to sun and breeze. Seeing my arms from
shoulder to fingertip, my legs from mid-thigh down to my toes reminds me how
strong they are, how much they can lift and how far they can carry me.
I’m feeling between worlds: the joy of being in the US when
they make marriage legal for everyone, the horror that someone would go blow people
up while they are praying in Kuwait, shoot people while they’re on vacation in Tunisia, while here I
am taking advantage of a few hours of childcare to organize shelves of food and
get stuff done. In Doha I can stop, read the news, have time to think about it
and I have a very international community- Tunisian neighbors, friends who have
lived in Kuwait. Here I am in my happiest place surrounded by green and hills
but I miss my people of Doha. I just admitted for the first time that I would
be sad if I heard that we weren’t returning after the summer, no matter how
much I hate the traffic and the construction and the social system there, no
matter that the sadness would come with relief.
And at the same time I wrote this,
which I now realize applies to both Vermont home and Doha home, especially these first
days after returning:
It is so strange every time to be somewhere utterly familiar
and totally foreign at the same time. These first days back in a previous home are so hard and so illuminating.
And then today, a week
after arriving back in Doha to start our third and final year here, I wrote this:
I’m remembering again how it feels to be shut up inside on
our life support of AC because outside the sun is trying to kill us. I’m
remembering how covering up isn’t simply out of respect for my hosts, it’s also just good sense in this climate. I’m remembering that there are other colors for the
sky than blue- dimmer, dustier colors. Soon
enough I’ll forget that clouds and hills can be normal too and how you have to
think ahead about dew if you don’t want your shoes and cuffs all soggy for the
rest of the morning. I’m already forgetting about what it feels like to have a
constant stream of company in my kitchen, people who thank me for my work and
offer to wash dishes. I’m remembering the peace and quiet of my house, cooking
for five instead of forty, with the view out the window of my daughter in
capris and a t-shirt sitting on the curb with girls in abaya and hijab. 
I've realized that there is more about Doha that I liked than I realized. I worked so hard at Doha this year. The summer before this one I went to Vermont with such relief to be away for a couple of months- I needed a full-on Doha-detox and I got it, so much so that I had a very difficult time returning. This past summer I missed it. The places that are the most challenging become important to us in their own way. Two years ago, after I’d only been there a month or so I posted this on Facebook:
I still hate malls, traffic, and indoor life in Qatar but there are also, surprisingly, plenty of things that I like, projects I’ve started and to which I looked forward to returning.
