This weekend, my nine month mark crept up on me. It has been nine months since I left the States and made Guatemala home. Someone recently told me, "Whoa! Nine months! You could have had a baby in that amount of time!" True, thank you. That is frightening.
So back to less frightening topics, yes, nine months is a longggg time. I feel like it's flown by, but saying the number out loud reminds me of just how much time that really is. Long enough to no longer be comfortable with U.S. currency, long enough to blank out on English words mid-sentence, and long enough for this to feel normal -- and for any piece of my American life to feel strange.
When I met up with Elise last Wednesday, she said, "It's so weird that you are here," to which I responded, "No, it's so weird that you're here. This is my life now." And it was true.
This is my room now, and these are my friends, and this is the town I live in. This is the music we listen to, this is where we shop, and this is the half-English/half-Spanish dialect we use on a daily basis.
My life in Guatemala may be weird, but after nine months, that weird is just...normal.