"How was Africa?"

I am back in Mass, after 30+ hours of flying, many times of madly checking and double-checking for the passport, much bag carrying, many naps in airport terminals. It is good to be back, and sad to be back. I am happy to see family, to be reminded of what it feels like to be cold, to lie in my bed. But as I unpack my bags (only in piecemeal, now I know that my Amarula survived, everything else can wait) I feel like I am unpacking the weight of four months, and I am not in a rush. I know that I am going to hear a lot of "how was Africa?" and I know I will either want to answer with a 4 hour-long synopsis, or just shrug and say "well, I don't know about the entirety of Africa..." I feel like I have become more independent, my world has expanded just that much more. And I want to share that with people, tell them about my homestay family in Joburg and life in Windhoek and farms in Khorixas and looking out over the sunset in Swakop and canoeing the Orange River and walking through Cape Town. But more importantly than that, I want to carry it within myself, allow those experiences to continue to shape me, even as I unpack or change the time zone on my computer. So while the physical traveling is over, I am reminded that the journey isn't, and I hope that I continue to live a story worth telling.